


Until the Very End

by Ciel-Phantomhive (DeanRiordain), RowanMarsters



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Black Butler - Freeform, Falling In Love, Kuroshitsuji - Freeform, Love, M/M, Minor Claude Faustus/Alois Trancy, SebaCiel - Freeform, sebastian and ciel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRiordain/pseuds/Ciel-Phantomhive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanMarsters/pseuds/RowanMarsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man and a boy. Worse yet, a demon and his contract. Could a love be more forbidden? These star-crossed lovers are too busy denying their feelings for each other and playing games of dominance, trying to see who will be on top, that no one has actually yet topped. Find out which means more: lust or love, pride or passion, a heart, or a soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Butler, Comforting

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Authors:  
> We have put a ton of work into this fan-fiction, so thank you for taking time to read it.  We love and appreciate comments and thoughts, so please, let us know your feelings. Due to the diligence in writing this fiction, and time and effort- the authors ask that you refrain from sharing this story or its content anywhere else.  
>    
> Disclaimers:  
> We do not own or have the rights to Black Butler, or the characters therein. Furthermore, while we appreciate constructive criticism, this is a FAN-FICTION, and while we will be sticking to parts of the manga and anime, the story is comprised mostly of original content. Please refrain from bashing the authors with unkind comments such as "It didn't happen that way" or "You know nothing about Kuro". We have read the manga, watched the anime, seen the musical, and read several fan-fictions. We remain in character on a daily basis, plot lining and coming up with what we feel is amazing content that will tell a beautiful story. So, there ARE differences in this story. While a good bit of it will be set within Seasons 1 & 2 of the anime, we picture some things differently for our story's sake. We picture Young Master Ciel to be about fifteen, rather than 12/13. However, if it makes you feel better, picture him as young or old as you want. This Fan-Fiction, while currently rated 14+ WILL go up to a mature rating. There will be fluff. There will be sex. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I invite you to refrain from reading this.  
> Other than that, there are various plot twists from the anime and manga we will alter to our liking. Again, this is a fan-fiction. We are not the original manga author, or the anime director. We are exercising our creativity as writers, and altering as we see fit. We think you will love it. So, with open minds, and open hearts...our story begins, with a single black feather.

Act I: His Master, Dreaming

My name is Earl Ciel Phantomhive. I am the heir to the esteemed Phantomhives of London, owner of the Funtom company, and watchdog to her majesty, Queen Victoria. In my manor, I'm known as the young master...but, I never feel young. Most people say it's because I've seen too much. Perhaps they're right. In my brief existence, I've seen almost every sense of happiness fade, and elude me. I have no parents. I did once, when I was happy, naive. Such a foolish way to behave...as though maybe the world was going to play the game of life fairly. A ridiculous notion.  
I'm talking to myself again, aren't I? Perhaps silence is where I'm best understood...without hollow eyes watching me. But, understood or not, I dread sleeping at night. There's seldom a night that passes that I wake refreshed. Well, that is, if I really sleep at all. This dream is going to slip soon, I can feel it, and with it, the security that I find in the brief moments of silence. I wonder which it will be this time.  
Where was I? I don't remember what was...  
Fire. It burns. Their faces, charred and broken. I open my mouth to scream but force it down. I'm too proud to show pain. Pain is weakness, a trait I can scarcely afford. No. Push it away, Ciel.  
Then come the hands. This is the part I dread, my body bruised and naked. Humiliation stings my cheeks as they hold me down. I try to fight, but I'm so weak, a broken fragment of a boy. I can hear the metal and I know what's coming next. I grit my teeth. Searing pain, utter agony. Death is knocking, calling and beckoning for me. Again, my pride shows; but, it hurts more to struggle anyway.  
I can't do it on my own. I feel my scream breaking my chest, ripping me into pieces. Help me. “Please!” I'm resorted to begging, a humiliation I can't stand...worse than their hands and branding irons.  
“Young master.”  
My body goes rigid. That voice. I've heard it before. It sends my heart spiraling, my head whirling. I am dizzy. Am I ill? Everything goes dark. Is it over? Am I dying? Or, am I blacking out to be awoken in some other horrible method. It's ebony, not enough light for the slightest shadow. Still, my body shakes, quivering in pain, anguish, hurt, and anger; and, I'm searching...desperately, frantically.  
Fire. I'm burning again. That voice...it belongs to...”Sebastian!” I cry out. Why won't he come? “Save me, Sebastian!”  
“I'm here, my lord.”  
Peace. Wings. I feel warm, and soft wings envelop me...most unlike my demon butler. I feel safe. The fire's gone, the pain eliminated.  
“I'm here, young master.” All fades to black.  
“It's over, /Ciel/.”  
I snap awake. I'm pouring sweat, sticking to the fine fabric of my nightshirt, my hair clinging to my face just as I'd wanted to cling so desperately to...no.  
I sit up in the dismal black of my room, trying to return my heart to its normal rate, rather than the thunderous drum its become. I can scarcely breathe. Nightmares render me that way sometimes.  
Yet, it isn't the nightmare that has me so perturbed. It's him. Sebastian. I pull back my covers to pace my room, and that's when I find it. A black feather. I can't help but cling to it. It's all well and fine in the solitude of my room, the dark of the night; but, in the morning, he's just my butler...and these feelings have no place anywhere but the elusive land of dreams.  
Safe...warm...loved...in the arms of my demon...how ridiculous.  
The feather turns beneath my fingers...soft, and gentle. How had it gotten there? My door creaks open...the drumming of my heart returns, ringing in my ears as I shove the feather in my nightstand drawer, beneath whatever else was in there. Only one person would be awake at this hour.

 

Act I, Part II: His Butler, Revealing

I could recognize the sound of my young master’s frightened screams anywhere. Almost instantly, I rushed into his room closing the door softly behind me. He was thrashing wildly in bed, screaming, “NO! GET OFF OF ME! STOP! PLEASE!“  
“Young master,” I called softly, shaking his shoulder, gently, “It’s just a dream. You need to wake up.”  
His screams are almost inhuman. In fact, I’ve heard inhuman things sound more human than this. A few feathers land on the bed, and I realize my true form is revealing itself on its own. Something sinister stirs inside of me at the sound of these screams. I want names for the hands that chose to violate my young lord. I want to hear bones break, feel flesh tear, see blood pool.  
I set the candelabra on the nightstand, before picking up the feathers. My young master has asthma, how careless of me. I throw the feathers out the window, swept away in the night breeze. I re-latch the window, a shudder runs up my spine at the sounds of those screams again. My form remains in tact this time as I sit on the edge of the bed beside him. His hair and nightshirt are damp with sweat. I have the urge to change his clothes, dab his forehead with a damp cloth. I’m snapped out of such thoughts by a new sound on his lips. “SEBASTIAN! SAVE ME! SEBASTIAN! PLEASE! SEBASTIAN!”  
Something twists inside of me that I couldn’t save him, before it happened and even now from a land of nightmares I cannot reach to vanquish, but then again if somehow I had managed such a feat I wouldn’t be here now. He wouldn’t need his revenge. He wouldn’t need me.  
I hold him in my arms and he fights violently against me, as if I were just one more faceless shadow with a branding iron. Another clench in my chest.  
“I’m here, my lord, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again. I will always save you. I will be by your side, until the very end.”  
He relaxes in my arms for a moment, before wrapping his arms tightly around me. There are tears in his eyes and for a moment I think he has awaken from his nightmares, but his voice is still drowsy and his eyes are still shut tight as he says, “ Sebastian? Stay with me. Sebastian, please, don’t leave me.”  
A different kind of clench in my chest. How peculiar. “Yes, I’m here. I’ll always be here. It’s over, Ciel.”  
Again my blood runs cold. I pull away with haste, picking up the candelabra, and walking out into the hall. For a moment I lean against the door. Did I just address my master informally? And worse, disobey an order? No. He hadn’t said, ‘this is an order.’ Still…what the hell is wrong with me?  
I go to the kitchen and prepare a fresh pot of tea before I walk back into my master’s bedroom. He’s sitting up in bed and hurriedly shuts the drawer of his nightstand. “W-what are you doing here, Sebastian?”  
“I knew you weren’t sleeping well so I took the liberty of preparing you a cup of tea. It’s chamomile and lemongrass. It will help you sleep soundly.”  
I hand him the cup and saucer. He takes a sip of the tea. He’s staring at me for some reason, more so than usual, a different look in his eyes, almost…curious. Could he know of my informal address? Does he detest me for such lack of form?  
“Well? Are you going to stand there all night or can I go back to sleep?” Ciel demanded, taking another sip of his tea, obviously to his liking.  
“But of course, my lord. My apologies. I shall come back after awhile to retrieve your cup.” I close the door behind me and head back to the kitchen. There is still so much to prepare for tomorrow, and I find my mind in desperate need of being occupied.


	2. His Butler, Reminiscing

Those words, they kept ringing in my ears as I tried to do my work late into the evening. _Sebastian, stay with me. Sebastian, please don’t leave me._ The cup slips from my hands and shatters on the floor.  
What the hell? I am never so careless, as if I were Mey-Rin, haphazardly breaking things. But my hands are shaking. I look at them, still covered in soapsuds from washing dishes. I don’t bother drying them as I grab the broom and dust pan, sweep up the shards of glass, and throw them away. I grab a pen and notebook and add one cup to the ever growing Phantomhive shopping list, much of which is comprised of grass seed (to grow back the lawn after Finnian destroys it), wood (to rebuild the kitchen after Bard gets a hold of his flamethrower), a mass amount of dishes (that Mey-Rin is sure to break on a daily basis), and lots and lots of sugar (for baking the young master’s mass amounts of sweets).  
After washing, rinsing, and drying dishes, I begin the rest of my duties. Washing windows, cleaning drapes, dusting, sweeping, mopping, and polishing floors…yet still those words come to me. _Sebastian, stay with me. Sebastian, please don’t leave me._ He sounded so desperate, as if my presence were the only thing keeping him safe. He hasn’t sounded like that since… 

_When I first came to the boy I could smell the blood and stench. The cult had branded him, violated him, tortured him, and left him in his own filth in a tiny cell. All in the attempts to purify him, cleanse him, yet they treat dogs with a kinder courtesy. They have the nerve to say demons are monsters? I’ll never understand the twisted and distorted workings of the minds of humans._  
_He was meant to be a sacrifice in an attempt to summon me. Foolish humans getting their hands on books that do not concern them, consumed by their own selfish greed, desperate to achieve their ends by any means._  
_My sudden manifestation in my true form was met with mixed reviews. Some of the cult members cheered, some screamed, well most screamed. Usually, in cases like this it is only the insane leader of the cult and his closest loyalists, who ever show signs of pleasure to see me, especially in my demonic form. There was a time I would just grant whatever mindless goal they sought in exchange for the consumption of the entire cult’s souls, a tasteless and dissatisfying feast, but a feast nonetheless. However, I had spent the last couple of centuries refining my palette. Here and now, being summoned by a few handfuls of stale and worthless crumbs, I smell something…mouthwatering._  
_There was something intriguing about this soul. Unlike the unclean souls I’d had no choice but feasting upon for the past few centuries, this one smelled of ambrosia. Though he had been through unspeakable trials, everything wrenched away from his grasp and taken from him, his eyes heavy with tears still held a sense of pride. More than pride, he had a thirst for revenge, a will to live, a determined mind. Though his body was small and frail, his mind was inquisitive, his heart rather large though his grim expression armored it well, and his soul…it was an old soul, for someone so young, seasoned beyond his years by seeing too much and yet it remained pure._  
_My dark aura envelopes the room and the cult freezes in place like idiotic statues. The boy, the one who’s soul smells so utterly delicious, he lays naked in a cage on the floor, my symbol painted in blood beneath him. He was not the only sacrifice tonight. I notice the corpses of other children piled carelessly in a corner of the room._  
_I stay encased in the darkness, not wanting to frighten him like the other men. Too many times my very presence scares the nerve of striking a deal out of even the bravest of men, and I am far too hungry to let such a banquet elude me._  
“My you are a tiny master, aren’t you?”  
“Your master?” _The boy asks, feebly, though I see in his eyes that he understands the severity of what I call him. He knows well what I am, and what I propose. I laugh. This will most certainly be fun._  
“Well that depends on you, doesn’t it? The choice is still yours to make. I cannot return to you what was lost. Do you wish to form a contract with me?”  
_He thinks for a long moment, silently, fire dancing in tear-brimmed eyes._  
“Think carefully. Should you reject the faith even this once, the gates of paradise will forever be beyond your reach.”  
_His gaze snaps in my direction, almost as though he sees me through the darkness. He isn't afraid. “Do you think one who is among the faithful would ever go so far as to make negotiations with someone like you?”_  
_I laugh._ “I’ll ask but once more, do you wish to form a contract with me?”  
“I do! Now stop asking these tedious questions and let me know if we have a deal.”  
“What do you require in return? What is your wish, tiny master?”  
“I wish for the power to exact revenge upon those who did this to my family. I command you, demon, to protect me and never betray me until I achieve that revenge. You will obey me unconditionally, and you will never lie to me.” _Had he thought of this before? What he would do were I actually summoned?_  
_Clever boy, most men are not wise enough to be so specific with their demands, making it much easier to twist their desires to my own will. Impressive. This shall make for an interesting game._ “You are quite greedy, for someone so young. What is your name, little master?“  
“I am Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive. The one who will inherit the house of Earl Phantomhive.”  
“Well then, Earl Ciel Phantomhive, let me take on the appearance of someone worthy to be called a servant to your house, and we shall put a seal on our contract.” _I step into the dim moonlight coming from the barred window of the dungeon. I must take on a more human appearance, so as not to startle him. I know how he wants me to appear, I always know._  
_My feathered wings retract into my back, my pointed teeth and fangs disappear, the vertical slit pupils of my violet eyes have been replaced with a more human shape, though I like red for their color. Something must differentiate me from these worthless beings, lest I be mistaken as one of them. I know he finds this appearance reassuring somehow._  
_I adorn the uniform of a proper butler, as per his requests of servitude. I bend the bars of his cage, so small that he cannot even sit up fully. I pull out his small naked, bruised and bleeding form. I offer him my hand to help him stand._ “The more visible the place of your seal, the stronger its power. Where would you-”  
“Anywhere,” _he says hurriedly,_ “Anywhere is fine. I want a power greater than anyone else’s.”  
“Greedy indeed,” I laugh, “Very well then. I shall put the seal on your eye, pluck out the despair in it and give you the power to avenge your injustice.” _As I touch his eye with the seal, he screams as it sears into him, branding him mine._  
_The eyes are indeed windows to the soul, and yet, until now I have never put my seal on my prey’s eye. Something that astonishes even me happens. I see glimpses into his past, his home, the parents he once had, their demise, his treatment at the hands of the cult. When we detach from one another I can’t help but lick the remnants off of my thumb, savoring even the smallest taste of an exquisite soul the likes of which I have never come across._  
_I kneel._ “Our deal is made. I am now yours to use as you will. I will protect you and never betray you until you achieve your revenge. I will obey your orders unconditionally. I will never lie to you. My body and soul, down to the very last hair, are yours. So, what are your orders, little master?”  
_He answers without hesitation. No remorse or mercy in his tone, just an unquenchable anger. I can’t help but smile._ “I want you to kill them all and burn this establishment to the ground. That is your order, demon.”  
“Yes, my lord. I shall return shortly. Wait right here.” _The members still frozen in place, no chance of retaliation, it takes only seconds to achieve an all too easy task. Even after seeing this small show of my true nature he is unwavering, still showing no signs of fear nor remorse. A curious little human indeed._  
“It is finished, my lord, save for the final task.” _I hold up a match, and light it._ “We’d best be off.”  
_I pick him up and carry him out of the vile church, already high in flames as I run through the forest carrying him. I feel his body easing in my arms, giving way to sleep. How odd that the only comfort he's found in weeks is in the arms of a demon. He is still asleep as we arrive at what was once his estate. Now a charred pile of rubbish that no one even had the respect to remove, leaving the dead so disgraced._  
_I lay him on the ground as I set about my work, allowing him to sleep. Though I work diligently and precisely it does take a bit of time for me to accomplish the task at hand. I remember well from the small glimpse into his soul, every minute detail of the mansion, and rebuild it to the exact specifications of the original, down to the aging of the stones._  
I watch him carefully as I perform each task. He looks so peaceful. I pick him up and carry him to his room, where fresh clothes and linens await him. I’ve prepared a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup, fresh baked rolls, and a chocolate cake with whipped cream topping and shaved chocolate garnish, as well as a pot of Earl Grey tea. But first, I need to wash the blood and filth off of him, bandage his wounds. So I step through the bedroom and into the bathroom, a warm bath already drawn. It’s taken me nearly two hours to complete all of this, and it’s nearly dawn. He’ll need much more sleep, but I don’t want to throw him into shock by putting him into the bath without waking him first.  
“Little master, it is time to wake up.”  
“Where am I?” _he asks, rubbing sleep from exhausted eyes._  
“You are in the bathroom adjoining your room, in the Phantomhive Estate, of course.”  
“But…how…?” _he asks, jolting up, and regretting the decision as he winces in pain, still taking in his surroundings._  
“How, what, my lord?” _I ask, knowing full well what his feeble question entails, but wanting to make him ask regardless. I deserve some form of respect and recognition, and I will pry it out of him by any trivial means necessary._  
“The manor. How did you…I mean, it was charred. Nothing remained, and yet here it is…everything just as it was. Every detail…how did you do it?”  
_I smile._ “I rebuilt it in a couple hours. If I couldn’t do something this simple then how could I ever consider myself a butler to the house of Phantomhive? A demon, capable of powers beyond the comprehension of your tiny little mind finds it laughable that you think me incapable of such a mediocre task, my lord.”  
_It takes a moment for him to regain his dignity,_ “Don’t be so utterly ridiculous, demon.” _He looks thoughtful again,_ “And don't do such careless things again.”  
“What ever do you mean, little master?”  
“A manor does not simply reappear into the night. It will draw skepticism, of which I can scarcely afford.”  
“Alright then, young master. I will try to not be…ridiculous, as you say. I have also prepared you a bit of dinner, as I’m quite certain you are half starved. But first I have drawn you a bath to clean you up and bandage your wounds. Unless you would rather I left you dirty and allow sepsis to set in?”  
_Without warning I set him down into the hot bath, and begin washing his hair gently. As the water becomes dingy with dirt and blood, the young master’s cheeks become flushed. The murky water was only part of the reason for the next order. To this day, the young master cannot tolerate the heat in a hot bath,_ “Change the water. It’s disgusting.”  
_His body shakes a bit, the heat getting to him as well as the realization of the humiliation he had been through, a stain that would remain for quite some time no matter how many baths and endless scrubbing ensued._  
_I change the water, taking an extra effort to make sure that the it is a few degrees cooler than the first bath and begin washing his hair once more._ “Is this more to your liking?”  
_He nods, finally relaxing a bit._  
_Blood and filth isn't staining the water quite as fast this time, and he’d often enjoyed his baths before. Still, his stomach growls, impatiently._  
I finish washing his hair, and begin taking a washcloth to his body. He tries so hard not to cry out at the numerous cuts from lash marks on his body, but the pain outweighs his pride, and hisses of agony fall from his lips. Some of the cuts have already started to close, still filled with dirt, already oozing pus. I will have to reopen them and clean them properly unless I want to risk an infection, maybe even an untimely death.  
“My apologies, my lord, this will be quite painful I am certain, but it is necessary. Please be patient with me.” _I begin reopening the wounds, scraping away the pus and dirt._  
_He screams out, clenching his teeth, the pain an ever constant battle with his pride. I finish wiping away fresh blood and come to the seared flesh of the brand, still so fresh on his back. I dab ever so gently at the mark._  
“STOP!” _Tears well up in his eyes. That mark, most painful, is also most damaging to his pride. There is no ‘please’, just a jump, almost out of the water entirely, water pooling around the tub as the tears stream down his face._  
“I am sorry, my lord. Here, if you’ll permit me,” _I hold the towel open for him, allowing him the decision as to whether or not I may wrap it around him._ “You really should go eat something before heading back to bed. You need to regain your strength.”  
_He looks me up and down for a moment, before staring at the towel blankly,_ “What are you doing? Why are you just standing there?”  
_Permission granted, I suppose. Such a condescending and pretentious child. What have I gotten myself into? No matter. A human life is such a small increment of time in the grand scheme of things, and I highly doubt it will take much of his human life to achieve his revenge. The bountiful feast of extraordinary excellence will be well worth such degradation._  
“Here you are my lord,” _I say, helping him out of the bath and drying him with the towel. I take him to his bedroom and dress him._  
He sits on the edge of his bed, his eyes fluttering with tiredness at the mere feel of the soft feathered quilt beneath him. He looks at the food with longing, before picking up a fork. Chocolate first.  
_Tonight I’ll allow him such an indulgence, but he should really be eating something substantial before he loses his appetite. He lets out a long sigh after the first bite, and follows it directly with another. Surely an Earl, undoubtedly trained in manners, has been left without these delicacies for far too long, judging by the chocolate icing smearing the corners of his lips. I take a napkin and wipe off the icing before taking away the wiped clean plate. The boy, still licking chocolate off his fingers, as I hand him the tray with the bowl of chicken noodle soup, rolls, and Earl Grey._  
“Earl Grey,” _he notices before even taking a sip, just the steam against his nose._ “What kind of a demon are you?” _He asks the question with an almost amusement._  
_Again, I laugh at such oddly inquisitive questions,_ “Your demon, my lord, of course. What a strange little master you are.”  
_He swallowed the Earl Grey contently, the smile quickly replaced by a frown,_ “I’m not little,” _he retorts._ “My apologies, my lord, but I do believe you told me never to lie to you. Would you prefer I start deceiving you now and tell you that you are by no means little at all, or would you just prefer that I not make such comments in regards to your stature?”  
_He sits the tea down on the tray again, brooding a bit,_ “I am Ciel Phantomhive, the head of this house, the heir of the previous Earl. I am, in that way, anything but little…” _he pauses, looking for a word,_ “Demon,” _He shoves the tray away, most of the food remaining untouched._  
“Very well then, young master. I shall take care of this. Perhaps tomorrow we will be able to put something other than sugar in that stomach of yours. Until then, you really need your rest.” _I put the tray back on the cart and wheel it to the door._  
“Wait, demon.”  
“Yes, my lord?”  
“What is your name?”  
“Whatever you wish my name to be, young master.”  
“Then... Sebastian,” _he says, after a long moment of pause,_ “From now on your name will be Sebastian.”  
“Well then, my lord, from now on call me Sebastian. Is that the name of your former butler?” “No. It was my dog’s name.”  
_Anger swells in me at the thought of being named after such a wretched creature, one that follows its master so devotedly, lovingly, and happily, no matter if the owner is abusive and vulgar. Such a stupid animal will lick the hand that beats him with his dying breath, a meddlesome animal with no brain and far too much heart._ “I see then. Well you should really get some rest young master.”  
_The boy nods his agreement, sliding down into warm feathers and soft silk. His eyes remain open, sleep not finding him as easily this time. I wonder if sleep will find him again at all or if he will still be awake when I arrive with breakfast in the morning._  
_No less than an hour later, when dawn was approaching yet the sun had not quite risen, inhuman screams of terror fill the corridors._  
I approach his bedroom swiftly, but the sounds are coming from further down the hall. I arrive at the master bedroom and open the door to find him crouched on the floor beside his belated parents' bed, wrapped in a comforter, and shaking violently. He looks almost like a rabid animal, those screams far too loud to be coming from such small lungs.  
“Young master,” _I call,_ “Are you still having some nightmare? You needn‘t be afraid. You are safe.”  
_He rocks back and forth propped up on the balls of his feet, unsteadily. His hands are clapped down over his ears drowning out all sound, even that of his own screaming. Sometimes consonants make their way into that wail of agony, but other than that, there are no discerning words._  
_I kneel down before him, covering both hands with my own and pulling them away from his face so he may hear._ “Young master, you are safe. You should really be in bed.”  
_He screams louder, his eyes growing wider, and he becomes even more animalistic as he begins thrashing, clawing, and kicking in a desperate attempt to shove me away, as if I am trying to attack him like one of those despicable cult members. I realize he’s having a panic attack, probably triggered by some nightmare or flashback from his recent traumas, but before I can act he begins coughing and wheezing. Though breathing rapidly becomes difficult, he manages to say with what little air he has,_ “DON’T TOUCH ME!”  
_Touching him will only worsen the panic attack, and I must calm him quickly to return his breathing back to normal. “LISTEN TO ME,” I call loudly, in an effort to be heard over the combination of gasping breaths and repeated screams of ‘don’t touch me.’_ “YOU ARE SAFE, YOUNG MASTER. CAN YOU HEAR ME? I WILL NOT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU. YOU ARE SAFE, CIEL. I AM BY YOUR SIDE. YOU ARE SAFE, CIEL. CIEL, PLEASE, YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN. TAKE A BREATH.”  
_I repeat his name in an effort to bring him back to his senses, maybe glare at me and scold me for addressing my master so informally, but anything is better than his high pitched wails and lack of breath. It seems to have the calming effect I’d hoped for, as his body starts shaking less, though still trembling. At least the screams have subsided. He goes quiet, save for the coughing and sputtering in an attempt to regain his breath. I imagine a select few people have had the privilege of calling the boy by his first name and getting away with it. I offer my hand, not wanting to throw him back into panicked screams by touching him, but allowing him help should he choose to accept it._  
“There now, young master. It’s all over. It was only a bad dream. Nothing more. It’s all over, Ciel.”  
_His face is drenched with sweat and tears as he looks at me, no disgust, no emotion, just blank, as though the fitful crying boy had vanished in seconds. He turns, crawling carefully into his parent's bed._ “I...” _he gasps,_ “I want...to be here.”  
_I pull the covers over him._ “Very well then, if it will help you sleep, my lord. You need to sleep well and regain your strength. There is much to do on an ever growing agenda. You are no longer a mere child, but an Earl, and with that comes specific obligations that you will be required to fulfill. Do not expect the world to show you kindness and mercy nor take pity on you because of what has happened to you. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place that often makes Hell look like a reprieve in comparison. That being said, would you like some warm milk to help you sleep.” _I add a smile to these last words, realizing that perhaps my words seem a bit callous and that such lectures are best left to daylight hours._  
“It's not that I am a child,” _he fires back,_ “You are ignorant of what loss feels like. One day, I too shall fill these holes of my heart with nothing more than venom and hatred and let wrath befall any who dare make a mockery of me. Do not question my motives or my innocence. I have retained nothing that would exist in the mindset of a child. I /am/ an Earl, and demon or no you are my servant, Sebastian, under my jurisdiction and my order. I will not stand to be insulted for my reprieve. When the time comes, they will find me here, and I will exact revenge in a most unpleasant way, until I stand on the other side, in hell, and call check-mate. Am I in any way misunderstood de-” _he pauses, his tone lightening, though he was still full of fury,_ “Sebastian?”  
_Apparently that brief stint of weakness did not last long. Good. I was beginning to think that maybe my meal had become less than salvageable, left in the fires of the pan too long, charred and dry, over seasoned. I am glad to see the succulent and tender feast that I had first smelled has remained in tact, for how long remains to be seen. The preparation of a soul is a delicate process. The slightest mishap and the dish can become ruined beyond all recognition. I smile,_ “Yes, I believe I understand you perfectly, my lord. Forgive me, of my grave offenses. I meant only to better prepare you for the events to come, but it appears both your heart and mind are ready for the task at hand. Again, that being said, would you like some warm milk to help you sleep?”  
“May I?” _he asked, some of that child-like innocence coming back,_ “With honey?”  
“Of course, I shall return shortly, my lord.”  
“No,” _he said, holding his tiny hand out to me,_ “Don't leave. Just...” _he sighs, going against his own request,_ “Just this once. Do it your way.”  
“Yes, my lord,” _I reply, already holding a cup of warm milk with honey and handing it to him._  
_He cocks his head to the side, sipping the milk with a look of contentment, sinking down a bit into his parent's pillows,_ “How do you do it? Is it simply speed, or some sort of magic?” _He stares into the cup, assessing its value as real milk, no doubt._  
_I smile._ "How do you know that that is even milk and not me tricking your senses into believing that the cup you feel in your hands, the smell of golden honey, and the taste of milk are all real when there is actually nothing but air beneath your fingers? How do you know that is not the case, young master?"  
“Well,” _he ponders,_ “I suppose were that the case, there wouldn't be sustenance. My body isn't used to sustenance and I can feel the weight settle. My mind isn't so easily tricked. You enjoy playing games, too, Sebastian? I never lose.”  
"Is that so? How do you know that I do not also trick your body as well as your mind? Hmm? That I am the one that makes you feel sustenance, full, and satisfied?"  
“Because,” _he says, yawning,_ “That takes far too much effort. You could, in all fairness, starve me, or play tricks with me. But, you would cross a thin line of honesty, an oath you cannot break,” _he smiles,_ “Besides, most people don't find it becoming to play with their food. That is...after all, what I am to you, is it not?”  
"Yes, well, demons are very fond of playing with their food." _I flash my pointed teeth at him._ "But I would never starve you, nor lie. The milk you drink is, in fact milk. However, a good magician never reveals his secrets." _I bring my finger to my lips as if to say 'shh'._  
_He doesn't cower._ “Understand, Sebastian, that my dreams are much more frightening than a demon who is bound to me under contract. For all intents and purposes, you are the 'knight' to my 'king', and you will protect me no matter the cost. I will never submit myself like a sacrificial lamb to you. I am the one controlling the pieces, and I do not fear a black knight who is chained to his place on the board. Until our contract has been fulfilled.” _He asserts himself with a smile._  
_He wants me to know that he will not be controlled. He considers himself exalted, and considers me the dog for which he's named me after. He sees nothing beyond his own eyes. He sees this servant's attire I have chosen to put on and views it as chains to control something greater than he can conceive, not realizing that this guise is merely a mask for the lion to walk amongst the herd until the time to strike approaches. He does not bother to see the strings that tether him, a puppet so easily manipulated by a mere flick of the wrist. After all, humans are so easily swayed by the power of persuasion._  
"And what then? When our contract is complete, your revenge exacted? Will you fear me then? Do you fear death, your demon finally taking what is his?"  
_Still his eyes begin to drop again, they flicker open painfully each time, as if closing them brings monsters out of their shadows._ “I looked at death far too long to fear it. If you wish me to fear you, I shall not grant you the satisfaction. If I have learned anything. Life is pain. Death is an end. I'm merely not ready to end my game until I make my opponent suffer greatly for the casualties.” _He stares at the blanket with nothing more to say, no more weakness to show, thought it's painfully present._  
"Then I shall happily be your sword to cut your enemies down. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I'll let you go back to sleep. I hope you find these accommodations more suitable."  
_He shifts in the bed, trying to get comfortable. As I begin to close the door behind me, I hear his footsteps, and feel...arms...tight around my waist,_ “No, Sebastian, please. Stay. Stay until I fall asleep,” _he begs. The tears come back, but his eyes are angry, his fear overtaking his pride._  
His tiny fists clench my overcoat tightly, his voice desperate. With some effort I pry his hands away from me, his breath becoming frantic again as if I will abandon him to whatever manifestations his traumatized mind has devised. I kneel down and wipe away tears from his eyes. "I will stay with you always, until the very end, my lord." _I pick him up and put him back in bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Though the room is pitch black because of the thick drapes, I know the sun has fully risen. I go to the shelf and pull off a book._ "Perhaps a bit of reading will help put your mind at ease," _I say with a smile. I stand beside his bed, and begin reading by the light of the candelabra,_ "I've always been a bit fond of Shakespeare, myself. Kind man indeed. I wish I'd been the one he'd sold his soul to for his success. Do you have a favorite play, or perhaps I should just read a few sonnets?”  
“The Raven,” _he says without hesitation, his eyes drooping shut once more,_ “By Poe.”  
_An interesting choice for a thirteen year old boy. An odd coincidence, as I am quite fond of ravens. A little gruesome and morbid for the intents and purposes._ "I think such a poem is best left for when you awake, young master, lest you have nightmares again. I shall read Much Ado About Nothing." _I begin reading Act I Scene I._  
_He opens his mouth to protest, but it gives way, and he vaguely listens at all as he succumbs to sleep, his hand reaching out in those final moments, searching for something_ “...stay...” _he breaths, though his word is spoken to someone in a much different reality, a place of dreams._

_Stay. Sebastian, please. Stay._  
_Why do these words plague me? The only thing I can think about. The only thing I can focus on. Focus, yes, I should focus on the task at hand. I look down. “Oh dear. This is entirely unacceptable.” I’ve been scrubbing the table so long my fingers are bleeding, and worse my claws have come out and left numerous long gashes in the wood._  
This won’t do at all. My hands heal instantly, an easy fix. I check my pocket watch. “Goodness. I’m…late.”  
_The servants were suppose to be awoken nearly half an hour ago. This won’t do at all. I put a tablecloth over both end tables, until I can purchase another one. I will just blame the expense on Finnian’s careless use of strength when I do the expense reports. Honestly, this would be simpler if I could just use my powers, but that would go against my master’s orders.  
A ruined table, a shattered cup, and a delayed schedule…what’s wrong with me, that I let my mind become preoccupied and my actions so unforgivably careless? The day’s entire schedule will be delayed now, and so much to do. Ciel won’t be happy about this. Master…my master won’t be happy about this._


	3. His Butler, Scent of Lavender

Sebastian entered the servants quarters through a door in the kitchen. Other than Sebastian, Tanaka had the largest room. It was a simple white walled room, with oak furniture. A picture of a cherry blossom tree hung above the bed, memories of a former life in an exotic land. His most prized possession stood in the corner, a roll top desk where he kept several journals, filled with detail after detail of the house of Phantomhive. An exquisite display of triple katanas mounted the wall above the desk. To many, they would seem a prop, or a decoration. Neither the young master, nor the head butler questioned that the swords were still sharp, and prime to use, much the same as their wielder.   
Tanaka had been the butler to Ciel's father, Vincent. As such, he was compliant in rising and beginning his duties, unlike the other three.   
“Mr. Tanaka,” Sebastian called as he knocked, leaving a small cart outside the elder’s room with a fresh pot of green tea, the leaves imported from Japan. It was a courtesy Sebastian would not afford any of the other servants. He liked Tanaka well enough as far as humans went. He was quiet, kept to himself, did as was asked, and did not manage to destroy an entire manor in seconds. He left the cart quietly, knowing that Tanaka was awake, despite the fact he could not hear him.   
Next, he knocked on Mey-Rin’s door. Though he almost never entered the room, he knew that the walls were dark blue with mahogany furniture. It was a plain room, save for a picture of a beautiful nighttime landscape that Mey-Rin had chosen for herself. This room’s centerpiece was hidden in the closet behind clothes and shoes. An assortment of handguns and rifles stood on an elegant rack, serving as a reminder of a nearly forgotten past and a means of protecting her master from anyone daring to wage a battle against the house of Phantomhive.   
“Mey-Rin, it is time to wake up.”  
As if alerted to the presence just behind the door, her body immediately stirred at the sound of the knock. The sultry voice, muffled just slightly from the barrier that separated them, always caused her to jolt up out of bed. Her heart pounded in her chest and her cheeks flushed, knowing that he was so close. She always wondered if he would turn that knob and see her so indecently in her night clothes. But, of course he never did, and yet her heart still skipped a beat each morning at this ritual, waiting, hoping against hope.  
“Y-y-yes, Mr. Sebastian, sir! I’ll be there right away, sir, yes I will!” Mey-Rin called, hurriedly pulling on her uniform and brushing her hair, before putting her glasses on.   
Sebastian woke Finnian much the same way he did his young master. The gardener could not be roused by a mere knock, so Sebastian opened the curtains of his large windows, illuminating the pale yellow walls and rosewood furniture with sunlight. Not wishing to be trapped indoors any longer than necessary, Finnian’s windows were usually open, and he had decorated the room with potted ferns and bright yellow flowers, making it a garden in and of itself. A canary sat in a gold cage, his beloved pet, replacing the bird he had once lost.   
“Finnian, it is time to wake up,” Sebastian called.   
Finnian suffered frequent nightmares as well. Startled, he sat up so fast that he cracked the frame of the bed a bit. With Finnian’s strength, the bed had been broken several times and replaced, just like any other item in the Phantomhive household.   
“Oooh, Mr. Sebastian, I'm so sorry. I'll fix it right away!”  
"See to it later, Finnian. I need you downstairs as soon as possible. There is a great deal of work to be done."   
“Y-Yes sir, right away, Mr. Sebastian, sir.”   
Bard was the most bothersome of the servants to wake up. Certainly more trouble than he was worth. He was a heavy sleeper and most unpleasant first thing in the morning. Sebastian had thrown a bucket of cold water on him on more than one occasion, though he saved such measures for rare and extreme circumstances. It caused such an unnecessary mess and he didn’t want to warp the hardwood floors with such needless tactics. However, he was prepared to do so this morning if need be.   
The room had hunter green walls and dark walnut furniture. The brash American displayed his passion proudly, cluttering the floor with crates of explosives and ammo, and covering the walls with an array of machine guns, shot guns, and rifles. It was almost like a minefield to outsiders walking into the room.   
“Bard, it is time for you to wake up,” Sebastian said, as he yanked open the curtains. The only reply he received was a loud snore from Bard, who didn’t bother to move a muscle.   
“Bard, it is time for you to wake up,” Sebastian repeated, ripping off the blankets.   
This time he rolled over, curling up a little trying to regain some warmth, as he said, “Piss off, will ya? I’m trying to sleep ‘ere.”  
Sebastian’s eyes flashed to a demonic shade of violet. _Piss off, will I? Idiot is still so out of it that he clearly does not know who it is he is dealing with._ Without hesitation or warning, Sebastian hit Bard upside the head.   
The man’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Aye, what’s that for, Mr. Sebastian?”   
“For not waking when I tell you to, Bard, and for thinking that you can speak to me with such lack of respect whether you are consciously aware of it or not. I haven’t the time to deal with your incompetence this morning. _He_ is arriving soon. I shall need all of you to try to do your best to actually get some work done today.” Sebastian’s head fell into his hand with a sigh.   
“Hey! Who’s he?“ Bard called after Sebastian, but the butler continued out the door to go greet their new house guest.   
Sebastian breathed a heavy sigh, trying to prepare himself before opening the door. Ciel's Aunt An, more notorious as Madame Red, was sending her new butler to apprentice Sebastian, in hopes of making him at least somewhat capable. He was by far the worst servant Sebastian had ever had the misfortune of coming across. He made the other Phantomhive servants seem incredibly skilled in comparison.   
“Hello, Grell Sutcliff, please do come in so we might begin your improvement. I’m afraid I have a great deal of work to do that is a bit more important than mending your clumsy ways. I’d like to be rid of you as soon as possible,” Sebastian replied, with a smile upon opening the door.   
“Oh thank you, Sebastian!” Grell answered, stepping into the entrance hall. He fell in line with the other servants, awaiting their orders for the morning.   
“You are so kind! I simply can't thank you enough for this opportunity! What should I do first?” Grell said, eyes shining.   
“Yes, Mr. Sebastian, what do we need to do?” Mey-Rin asked, excitedly.   
“Well, I am already running behind schedule,” Sebastian answered, checking his pocket watch, “Mey-Rin, you can begin setting the table for the morning’s breakfast. Finnian, you can begin watering the plants. Bard, you and I will prepare the young master’s breakfast, before I wake him up. I haven’t the time for any mishaps Grell, so please do me a favor and watch what I do precisely, preferably from a safe distance. Oh, and do try not to touch anything. Tanaka, you do exactly what you are doing,”   
By the time Sebastian reached the young master’s bedroom door, he had already put out one of Bard’s fires, caught a handful of plates that Mey-Rin nearly dropped, and helped Finnian stop the water from running after breaking the handle to the hose.   
Then, there was Grell, every step and touch a catastrophic disaster of such proportions that nothing was safe within his reach. Sebastian began to wonder if the inept butler had the capability of breaking anything just by a mere look. Why, with all the competent butlers in England, had a noblewoman such as Angelina Duress chosen this...disgrace? He checked his pocket watch again. Forty-five minutes behind schedule. This was unacceptable.   
Entering his master’s room. he went to open the curtains; but his hands froze on the fabric, the nightstand catching the corner of his eye. It had been so unlike his lord to behave in such a way. _How curious._  
He walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer softly. A handgun, a deck of cards, a couple books, a collection of short stories and poems by Edgar Allen Poe lay on top. He picked it up. Reading this had undoubtedly been the source of last night’s traumatic dreams. His eyes fixated on the bookmark between its pages: a black feather… _his_ feather. He opened the book, his finger tracing over the feather. The title of the page read: _The Raven_. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh softly at the irony, as he replaced the book in the drawer. _Oh dear, my lord, what new game are you playing at now?_  
“Young master, it is time for you to wake up,” Sebastian said, pulling the curtains open.   
Ciel's eyes fluttered at the light, as he sat up in bed, groggily. “You're late,” he noted, at the brightness of the sun glaring into his window. His eyes shifted quickly towards his nightstand, as thoughts of last night came flooding back to him. He looked up towards Sebastian, feeling a knot hitch in his throat, his heart throbbing as though Sebastian could see into his mind and into the drawer. _A stupid feather. I’ll have to dispose of it._ Later, he told himself, unwilling to come to terms with the fact that he did not wish to do anything of the sort.   
“My apologies, my lord, there have been some delays this morning with the blunders of your Aunt’s butler amidst the foul ups of the other three servants,” he explained, not wanting to admit to his own mishaps, even to himself. He pulled the blankets back on Ciel’s bed.   
“Are you incapable of dealing with these issues effectively, as a butler of the Phantomhive household?” Ciel asked snidely, swinging his legs over the bed with a smirk, “And, incapable of thinking clearly as well, Sebastian? My tea?”   
_Tea?_ Sebastian thought to himself, as he looked at the silver serving cart, _Yes, I suppose I normally give the young master his tea before pulling back his blankets. How careless of me._  
“I have taken care of everything, my lord, though admittedly a little behind schedule. As for my actions regarding your tea, I merely thought you would like to drink it while I get you dressed, as we are running late and have errands to attend to in town.”   
He poured the hot water over the tea leaves, allowed it to steep, then added sugar and cream before handing the cup and saucer to his lord. “This morning I’ve prepared you a cup of Earl Grey. For breakfast, we will be having a lightly poached salmon accompanied by a mint leaf salad. We also have toast, scones, and pan de campagne.”   
“I do hope in your carelessness, you did not leave breakfast preparations to Bardroy?” Ciel asked, sipping his tea. The question was not meant to be answered, but rather, a bullet at Sebastian. It was a game they played frequently. Ciel looked for holes in Sebastian's nearly-perfected butler rouse; and Sebastian would find tears in the fabric of the Earl's guise, a never ending battle of wits. But the game was just that, a game, meant to be fun and nothing more. Unless one of them was actually pissed at the other, which was certainly not unheard of...then, the stakes were raised, sometimes to a careless level.   
Inhaling the fresh scent of Earl Grey, Ciel let out a sigh, trying to think, as his butler prepared his clothing, “And of my schedule today, Sebastian?”   
“After breakfast we will be going into town to fetch your walking stick now that it is finally completed. After that I am afraid we will have to be a bit flexible as much of my time will be devoted to training your Aunt’s butler, per your orders. He is such a nuisance I daresay it will take a miracle just to complete your tutoring lesson at this rate.” Sebastian had selected a white shirt, with a blue bow, brown shorts, and matching overcoat for today‘s outfit. He began unbuttoning his master’s nightshirt.   
During the past couple years, this had become a routine. Even before there was Sebastian, there was Tanaka, taking care of all of Ciel's needs. He'd never needed to learn to button a shirt, or tie shoes, or a tie. It had always been done for him. But, now, he found a lump in his throat again, burning this time from the Earl Grey.   
Occasionally, Sebastian's gloves would slide over the fabric, brushing Ciel's skin just slightly. It was a common enough occurrence, but for some reason these gentle, otherwise meaningless touches sparked fire. He blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a long time, feeling the lingering burn where white gloves had gone astray against his skin. He swallowed the lump down again, opening his eyes, and exhaling. “I don't mind canceling my lessons today.” he smirked, detesting his lessons, especially Latin and history.   
“Of course you wouldn’t, my lord. You would much rather sit behind your desk and do nothing but eat cake, drink tea, and build houses out of cards, but as I continually reiterate to you there is still much you need to learn in regards to being a respectable nobleman, as well as the queen’s guard dog. Your studies are crucially important.”  
_He is rather tense today for some reason. His heart is beating faster and its almost as if he is trying to hold his breath. Probably still worked up from his nightmares last night, or else…no that’s absurd. The feather, he kept it as a joke, probably to mock me with later or else throw in my face with some snide remark and a sneer or perhaps even an angry order to never do such a thing again, with a slap across the face. He couldn’t possibly have kept it for comfort. This racing heart, it couldn’t possibly be some sort of attraction, certainly not towards…_  
Sebastian’s own heart clenched at these thoughts. _This clenching in my chest is starting to become irritating._  
“Yes, yes, I know,” Ciel said, sighing, “That doesn't mean I have to enjoy such tedious things.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts for a moment, before his teeth clenched in protest, “I do much more than eat cake and drink tea, I'll have you know.”  
Ciel crossed his arms, now encased in the soft custom-tailored brown jacket. “And how dare you insult my integrity?” he complained as Sebastian tied the bow around his neck, before complaining about that as well, “It’s too tight.” It really wasn't, of course; but, Ciel had never taken lightly to an insult, whether it was intentional or not, and so he looked for anything to belittle Sebastian in order to remind him of his place.  
“My apologies, my lord,” Sebastian replied, retying the bow a little looser, “I didn’t realize it was too tight. As for my insult as you call it, I am merely stating the truth that you have a great deal more to learn. You did order me never to lie to you. While I understand these tasks are not enjoyable, they are necessary skills for you to assume your role in society.”   
“I scarcely see the point in learning what they call a 'dead' language,” Ciel grumbled, though he'd clearly given in. He looked down at his clothing, looking for anything else to tell Sebastian he'd messed up on. Finding nothing more to complain about, he picked up the saucer with his tea, sipping it silently, before handing it back to Sebastian, “To the dining hall, then. I hardly trust those three with someone who is less capable than they are.”   
“Yes, I think that would be wise, my lord.”  
A short time later, in the downstairs dining room, Sebastian had just pulled out Ciel’s chair for breakfast when Grell came bursting through the door on top of Sebastian’s silver serving cart. He crashed to the floor with a loud bang, spilling tea on Finnian, who cried out loudly.   
“I‘m so…so sorry. I‘ll wipe it off.” Grell screeched, grabbing the tablecloth and attempting to clean up the mess, sending the entire breakfast crashing to the floor before the young master could take a single bite.   
Sebastian almost expected a harsh word from his master; but, rather, Ciel rest his head in his hand, annoyed, but trying to be gentle. He'd really been hungry, too.   
Sebastian looked on as Bard whispered rather loudly to Ciel, “Master, why didja agree ta take on such a useless idiot?”   
“You're one to talk, Bard.” Ciel retorted with finesse, “It didn't seem like such a bad idea. I thought Sebastian would be the only one inconvenienced. I never expected I would be affected by it as well.”  
“I'm so sorry for causing all of this trouble,” Grell said, sinking to his knees, “I simply don't know how I can apologize enough. Wait, that's it!” He stood up so quickly that all three servants who had been glaring at him scooted away, before disaster could strike again, “The only thing I can do now is DIE! I shall atone with my death.” He held a dagger to his chest.   
To Ciel, it looked like something straight out of the Shakespearean plays that Sebastian was so fond of. Perplexed, if not downright amused by this scene, Ciel looked to Sebastian.   
“CALM DOWN A SECOND!” Bard panicked, reaching out to Grell.   
“Umm, should we take the knife away?” Mey-Rin pondered.   
It was a blatantly obvious question, though, rather than protest Grell's suicidal thoughts, Ciel found himself wondering where in the bloody hell the knife had come from in the first place.   
It was Sebastian's hand that inevitably rest against Grell's shoulder. “There is no need for that. Just think of the horrible mess you would make. It would take hours to clean up all of the blood.”  
Grell's eyes shone at the butler in admiration, his hands clasped together, “Thank you, Sebastian. You're so very kind.”   
Bard looked confused, “That was kindness?” The other servants shook their heads.   
“Now, what I'd like to know,” Sebastian continued, “Is how you could ever think it was acceptable to serve the master such weak tea. Watch me.” Sebastian demonstrated, setting a teapot down on the table. He began scooping loose leaf tea into the pot, with expert care, “A spoonful for each person, and one more for the pot. Finally, add half a pint of boiling water, and let it steep until done.”  
The other servants took down notes, as Grell stared in awe. Ciel sipped his tea contently, but never did voice his approval. He wouldn’t give Sebastian such satisfaction, further inflating his ego.  
“Master, are you ready? It is almost time. I have the carriage waiting for you in the front drive now.”   
“Fine,” Ciel replied, dryly, continuing with his second cup of tea for the day, still wanting at least a scone or some sort of pastry. He would order Sebastian to make up for it somehow later...perhaps a delectable chocolate cake.  
“As for the rest of you,” Sebastian continued, “I want this place absolutely spotless. Understand? Grell, perhaps you should just sit there and relax so you don’t cause any more trouble. Oh, and if you do seek your eternal rest, please see to it outside, and try not to make too big a mess.”   
“What generosity! What great kindness!” Grell said, marveling once more at Sebastian’s words as though they were truly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.   
“What an idiot,” Ciel murmured under his breath, softly. Sebastian smirked as the master said exactly what he himself had been thinking, even if the butler had been the only one that overheard such a snide remark.   
*****

When at last they arrived in town, word had spread throughout the streets of a prostitute who had been mysteriously murdered. It was undoubtedly another case for the Queen’s guard dog to take care of. _Her majesty’s letter should be arriving any day to give such orders,_ Sebastian thought, displeased.   
A raven perched on the sign outside the shop. _How ironic,_ Sebastian mused. “I’ve always considered them to be lovely creatures, myself. Don‘t you think so, my lord?” Sebastian asked, with a smile, “I know you are so fond of the poem by Edgar Allan Poe, but do you like the actual creatures? I wonder, were you reading such poems last night? That is, after all, so often the case when you’re having nightmares all night.”   
Ciel's eyes opened wide, but he quickly withdrew such expressions of emotion, looking back down at the ground outside the shop, “It's just a silly bird. Why such impertinent questions? It isn't as though I asked you to lurk outside my chambers at night. While we're on the subject...why were you...stalking about last night?” Sebastian moved a piece, Ciel evaded, putting him back into check. This was how the game was played.   
"As always, I was merely performing my nightly duties, but it is rather hard to focus on such tasks when I can hear your screams in the kitchen. I was concerned, so I thought I would bring you some tea to ease your mind. Would you prefer I leave you to your night terrors from now on?"  
“Don't be ridiculous,” Ciel scoffed, “Are we just going to stand here all day, or can we actually go into the shop?”   
He stared at Sebastian's hand on the doorknob. _I wonder if those hands would feel better, warmer against my skin, without those gloves. If the black tips of his fingers would be as gentle._ He felt a chill go up his back and jumped a bit, his face becoming crimson with the humiliation of such lewd thoughts.   
“But of course, my lord. After you,” Sebastian replied with a smile before bowing slightly.  
_He’s blushing,_ Sebastian observed, _This appears to be more serious then I thought. He’s very self conscious and defensive over such an insignificant token. He’s certainly not mocking me, no snide remarks, nor orders to never do such a thing again. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hide the fact that he knows that I was by his side or that he kept that feather. Peculiar._  
Ciel brushed by Sebastian through the door, which rang a tiny little bell, alerting the older shopkeeper of their presence. He walked a few paces in front of Sebastian, making certain to remind the demon of his station.   
“Hello, boy,” the shopkeeper greeted him cheerfully enough. Ciel sneered at the word as the shopkeeper continued, “Did your father send you for something?”   
_How contemptuous,_ Ciel thought, his eyebrows furrowing and his frown darkening his young face, as it so often did, _To address me so informally, and to suggest that I have no business here._  
_Oh dear, it seems the presumptuous fool has invoked the wrath of my master. There are select few things that Ciel Phantomhive hates more than remarks about his age or stature._ Sebastian smiled, knowing the man would have to be punished for such tactlessness.   
“Actually,” Sebastian addressed the shopkeeper, stepping in front of his master, and holding up a slip of paper, “He is here on his own business.“ Sebastian handed the paper to the shopkeeper, who looked it over for a brief moment, as Sebastian continued politely, “We need to pick this up.”  
“Oh,” the shopkeeper said, going to a drawer behind his counter, “You're here for _that_ walking stick. I was wondering who would have a use for one as short as this.”   
Ciel's frown deepened. Sebastian nearly smiled. The shopkeeper took no notice, as he turned, handing the pristine walking stick to Sebastian with a smile, “Naturally, I didn't think a child-”   
The end of the walking stick stopped within a fraction of an inch of the man’s face. _How easily I could have just shoved this stick clean through, but then there would be such a mess to clean and of course the young master would be cross with me. I couldn’t have that. Still, this should teach him to respect the name of Phantomhive from now on._ “Straight as an arrow. A magnificent stick indeed, my good sir,” Sebastian said, smiling as the man nearly died of shock.   
Sebastian set down a bag of money and headed towards the door before adding, “Keep the change. Good day.”   
Ciel was abnormally quiet on the ride home. He'd remarked very little about the incident with the shopkeeper, only stating that Finnian had caused him an inconvenience, and that it was high time he'd gotten a new walking stick anyway. He _had_ grown a few inches, thank-you-very-much.   
He was, however, taking it all in. The hushed whispers on the street about the murdered prostitute, the excitement of children gushing over the new Funtom rabbit that his company had released. Ciel knew that he should be happy about such things, but they only reminded him of his innocence, long since stolen away from him. As for the prostitute...it would be his duty soon. The yard was always incapable of these sort of things.   
Ciel wanted none of it. He yearned for peace and quiet. Being stuck in the carriage with Sebastian made Ciel feel strangely. He was irritated at how he seemed to be noticing little quirks with his butler. He would check his pocket watch every ten minutes or so. Then, there was the smell. He smelled of lavender, like the gardens...only Ciel was pretty certain it was his hair. Then, there was the faint smell of breakfast...the chocolate chips of his scones. His stomach growled with an ache. It had been so long since he'd almost gotten to eat breakfast.  
Ciel had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn‘t heard Sebastian‘s question, his butler‘s voice snapping him back to reality, “Young master?”  
“What?” Ciel said, looking out the window, anywhere to avoid Sebastian’s gaze.   
“I said that you are rather quiet, my lord. Is something troubling you?”   
“Don't be ridiculous,” Ciel retorted. _Is something bothering me? Not at all. Only that for some reason, I can smell your hair, and I can feel the hairs stand up on my body because of it. I'd like to blame it on the murder, making me cringe, making chills run up my spine...but, I can't. Death's crimson portrait doesn't even phase me. So...why? Why do you do this to me? So mysterious, and beautiful, my means to revenge...my imminent death. I loathe you, Sebastian Michaelis._  
“You needn’t dwell on such trivial matters, my lord. The shopkeeper was an ignorant fool, unfamiliar with the name of Phantomhive and the respect it demands. We shall work to solve this recent murder, when the queen’s orders arrive, and until then you shouldn’t burden yourself with thoughts on the matter. But, I think what is upsetting you the most is the boy’s excitement over the new Funtom rabbit. To have such bewilderment and joy over something so simple. A painful reminder of a life you should have had, rather then the tragic hand you were dealt. Am I right?” Sebastian asked.  
“You're right,” he said, simply. “I shouldn't dwell on such trivial matters.” _The smell of lavender, the feel of un-gloved hands, of soft black feathers_ , he shoved such trivial matters back to the recesses of his mind, swallowing another lump in his throat. It was completely improper to dwell on such derisory notions. He removed his coat with some effort. It was really quite warm for Spring.  
“When we arrive at the manor, I should like to have my lunch in my study. I have quite a bit of work to do before I become swept up in this murder case. It's only a matter of days before Her Majesty finds the Yard incompetent as always.”   
“Very well, sir,” Sebastian replied with a smile, “Is there anything in particular that you would like me to fix you?”   
“Chocolate chip scones,” he muttered.   
"Yes, I suppose you didn't get a chance to taste this morning's batch before Grell's rein of havoc, did you?” he smiled, “I do apologize for not making you another breakfast this morning, but we were already very behind schedule. You must be quite hungry.”  
As if to further humiliate him, his stomach growled at the very thought of warm, delectable scones, “Yes, well, I suppose it couldn't be helped,” Ciel sighed, “I wonder what use Madame Red finds for someone so utterly futile. It gives me a headache just thinking about the mess that those four have likely made of my manor.”  
“Yes, I can only imagine,” Sebastian mused, “Though I suggest the next time you seek to punish me, it’s in a way that does not also inconvenience yourself. You’re rather stressed enough as it is.”   
“Punish you?” Ciel asked, smirking, “I simply enjoy troubling you. Rest assured that were it punishment, it would not merely be an inconvenience.”  
"Oh? And what sort of punishment did you have in mind?" Sebastian asked, curious as to what his master considered suitable torment for a demon of hell.   
At that moment, any thought of a real punishment faded, “I...” he started, his cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of crimson thinking of orders he could give Sebastian that were anything but punishment. He felt sick. “Don't ask such foolish questions.”   
Normally, he wouldn't have hesitated - listing a multitude of fairly creative things that only a mind as sharp and still meticulously twisted as Ciel Phantomhive's could come up with. Now, he feared the answer that would come out of his mouth. _That’s it. The feather, and any notions with it are disappearing the second I get home._  
When had this pit in his stomach even started? This was a demon, not a person that was capable of feelings. Merely a tool...a knight...no, a pawn. Insignificant and meaningless. 'It' was, in this form, a man and a butler, both of which would result in his own imprisonment should he act on such obscene urges. Ciel's stomach lurched as the carriage came to a halt. If he'd had breakfast that morning, it would have more than likely come up with such revolting thoughts. He just wanted to go back to bed, and cease the thoughts that were plaguing him.  
_Blushing? Apparently my lord’s thoughts on punishment are anything but innocent._ For a brief moment, Sebastian’s mind succumbed to such seductions. His lord lying down on the bed, posed most suggestively, looking up with those intoxicating eyes, brushing soft hair away from his face. Sebastian stay with me. The clench in his heart was accompanied by a lustful jolt that went through his heart, penetrating his stomach, and going lower still. He shoved away such thoughts, not showing such inappropriate displays of emotion as he replaced Ciel's coat on him, before he opened the carriage door. “You must be tired, master. I’ll prepare a tea for you immediately,” Sebastian replied, opening the door to the manor.   
Ciel barely heard a word Sebastian had said, his eyes fixated on the man’s lips rather than the words they were saying. He hated that such obscene thoughts refused to relinquish their hold on his mind. He found himself actually relieved by the catastrophic state of his manor as Sebastian opened the door. _As good a distraction as any,_ Ciel thought, breathing a sigh of relief before he stepped inside, agape in shock, putting back on his mask.  
“What's the matter?” Sebastian asked, peeking inside, before surprise took over his features as well. So much pink, bows and frills, and horrible cute little animals infesting everything in Ciel's beloved home.   
“My mansion!” Ciel exclaimed, looking with disgust from long colorful streamers to pink hearts to fluffy bunnies.   
“What happened to this place?” Sebastian asked, wanting to know who was responsible for such a mockery that he would undoubtedly be in charge of cleaning up, “Why, it's a disaster.”   
All at once, the three servants came bolting out of the drawing room. Finny, who wore a pair of bunny ears, and Mey-Rin knelt down beside Sebastian, as if cowering from some unspeakable terror. Bard was dressed up as a maid, and he remained standing, clutching Sebastian's trench coat in both hands, “Sebastian!”   
“What is going on here!?” Sebastian asked, eyes wide and not nearly thrilled that Bard was about two inches away from his face, “And why on Earth are you all dressed like lunatics?”   
Bard, the American...self proclaimed fearless chef and firearm specialist shook as he pointed to the kitchen, “She's crazy!”   
“Who is crazy?” Ciel demanded, stepping in as a serious look came over his features, the relief of a distraction waning and the gravity of the situation sinking in. When he heard a gargled sound coming from the drawing room, he immediately went to investigate.   
Upon his entrance, he found Grell dangling like a pinata from the ceiling, in a noose, decorated in frilly yellow bows. “What are you doing?” Ciel asked angrily.   
“I do believe I'm in the process of dying, Master Ciel,” Grell choked.   
Ciel's tone was becoming more displeased and agitated by the moment. He looked down, scoffing, “Get him down, Sebastian.”   
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, going to take Grell down.   
Before he had even reached him, a blur of orange rushed by. “CIEEEL!” Lizzie screeched as she pounced into Ciel’s arms, “Ciel, you’re back! I missed you so much!”   
“Elizabeth, what a surprise,” Ciel said, taken aback, as he went rigid in her arms.  
_Of course, the fiancé,_ Sebastian sighed, cutting down the Grell piñata, _How could I have almost forgotten? An unexpected visit…just when I thought I didn’t have enough to do with an additional idiotic servant, more incompetent than the three I am already in charge of. Now I have all this pink to contend with, festering what was once my master’s pristine manor._  
Seeing the young Lady’s arms around his master filled him with a new feeling, a sickening coldness filling his stomach. _What is this? There are a great multitude of complex emotions that human beings were capable of. Demons can feel too, just as strongly, but living for centuries has a tendency to harden the heart, leaving only deep cardinal feelings like hunger, anger, and lust. Now, I find myself rediscovering old feelings, forgotten long ago. He tried to put a name to it. Could this be…jealousy? Whatever it is, I find myself not liking it. Not in the slightest._  
“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Lizzie! You really are just the cutest thing ever! Aren’t you, darling boy? I could just eat you up!”   
“Lady Elizabeth?” Sebastian said, holding up the Grell piñata.   
“Oh, hello Sebastian,” Elizabeth said, turning to face the butler, “How are you?” She looked at Grell and her eyes saddened, “Aww, you took him down?”   
“Yes, well he distracted from the beauty of the room,” Sebastian offered with a smile.   
“ But I made such a lovely decoration out of him,” Elizabeth pouted.   
“A decoration?” Sebastian questioned.   
“YES! Just look at it all! Isn’t this salon so cute now?”   
“Ugh, my mansion,” Ciel said, in utter exasperation, “It’s so pink.”   
“From now on only the cutest things belong in the Phantomhive manor! Wouldn’t you agree Antoinette?” she asked, looking to poor Tanaka, who sat in a curly blonde wig.   
“Oh, and Tanaka…” Sebastian said, with pity.   
“And I have a present for you too!” Lizzie said, delightedly as she placed a flowery, pink bonnet on Sebastian’s head. “You’re always dressed in black, so I thought this might be a nice change. What do you think?”   
The other three Phantomhive servants snickered at such an absurd sight, but they were quickly silenced by one look from the head butler.   
As foolish as he felt in a pink hat and even with the sickening coldness in his stomach, for some reason he couldn’t be angry at this overly cheery, bright eyed girl. “I am deeply honored that you would go to so much trouble for a humble servant. Your generosity overwhelms me,” Sebastian said, with a bow.   
“Happy to help,” Elizabeth beamed.   
“In any event, Lizzie, what are you doing here?” Ciel asked, “Auntie didn’t let you come alone.”   
“I sneaked away, because I wanted to see you silly!” Lizzie said, throwing her arms around Ciel once more.   
“You sneaked away?” Ciel asked, feeling his ribs being crushed, his blood going cold, “Don’t you think you’ll get into trouble?” Moreover, would he get into trouble? His Aunt Frances wasn't well known for tolerance or generosity to such behaviors, and would likely think Ciel had something to do with it.   
“I know!” Lizzie continued, ignoring Ciel, “Now that the mansion is decorated so prettily why don’t we have a ball tonight! Then you can be my escort and we can dance around all night long! Isn’t that a wonderful idea?” Lizzie asked, spinning Ciel around.   
“A ball? No!” Ciel said, in protest.   
“You wear the clothes I picked out for you, won’t you? Pretty please! They’d look so cute on you!” she said, eyes shining.   
“I don’t want…”Ciel continued to object.   
“And of course I’ll be dressed to the nines as well!” Lizzie proclaimed, before running up to Grell, “You come with me! I want to make you look even cuter than you already are!”   
As Lizzie raced down the hall, dragging Grell with her, Ciel yelled, “WAIT I SAID NO BALL!”   
Ciel looked at the closed door with absolute disdain, wishing his carriage had never stopped and kept on riding across the country side. It would have been less of a headache than this ordeal, and he could have been alone with…   
“Sebastian,” Ciel said, through gritted teeth, “My scones. Now.”   
The Earl stormed off to his study, not daring to glance back at his butler lest his heart skip another beat.

***** 

_It’s been nearly an hour and Sebastian has yet to bring me my scones. Bastard. Who the hell does he think he is?_ Ciel’s stomach growled as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. But, it wasn’t his stomach gnawing at him that troubled him so. His heart was screaming at him and his head reamed. It would be easier to blame it all on hunger, but no matter how many scones filled his stomach, when the plate was empty there would still be… _Lizzie._  
There was a time that Ciel looked forward to his fiancé’s visits. Now, just like the boy outside the Funtom shop in town, she served as a painful reminder that he was forever changed, stained. Lizzie had retained the sweetness of innocence, and somehow assumed he could come through everything and return to the bright eyed, happy child she had first met. He wasn't that boy anymore, nor could he ever be. She didn’t know everything that had changed him, nor would she. Even if his own innocence had been corrupted, he would at least do everything in his power to preserve hers. He owed that much to her at least, even if he would never have the chance to be the husband she deserved.  
That innocence, that utter joy, a part of him hated her for it, resented her even. He never looked forward to her overly cheerful ways, of trying to make him smile, or worse, calling him her fiancé. He knew that even if he lived long enough to utter such dishonest vows, that it would just be another part to play, another act before the final chapter. He would never be able to make her happy, and she'd spend what short time they had together with a husband who could never love her the way she so desperately craved, and the rest of her life as a widow mourning the boy she had once known, rather than the man she knew nothing of. He did care for Lizzy, regardless of in what way or how he chose to show it. He didn't want her life to be built on empty lies, like his own. He wouldn’t wish the life he had on anyone.  
He was fifteen years old, so young, and yet so tired, wearied down by fake smiles and sugar-coated lies. His life felt hollow. He almost felt as if he were drowning. While other kids attended school, playing practical jokes and attending social events, blissfully happy in their innocence...he sat at his desk going through paperwork for the company he created, socializing with England’s elite, and taking orders from her Majesty, as the Queen’s guard dog. All of it an act, meaningless. It didn’t matter how many toys his company sold, how many people knew the name of Phantomhive, how much crime he cleaned up. His revenge would be completed soon. He would be dead. His soul would be devoured. For Ciel Phantomhive, there was no future to plan for, and it was pointless to think about such things.  
He should have been like them, happily innocent, focusing on school, friends, and girls, instead of paperwork, crimes, and revenge. His father should be here, taking the time to show him how to fulfill his duties. His mother should be here too, and though he’d never dare admit it aloud, he wanted nothing more than her sweet voice reading to him as he drifted away to the land of dreams. But he couldn’t even bring himself to dwell on should-have-beens. Not only did it make him feel weak, but even that dim glimmer was too much to hope for, when all that he had to look forward to was an imminent demise and an eternity in the flames of hell, nothing more than a demon’s meal.  
So he walked among them, but was never part of them, like one of the many tragic poems of Poe. His past was a tortured memory, his future nonexistent, but it was the present that made it all so painful. Having to keep up the act in order to fulfill his revenge, but never having anything in life to truly look forward to. An engagement to Elizabeth, he hadn’t chosen this, for either of them. Like so much of his life, he had had no choice in the matter, everything had been chosen for him. It was probably best that way, after all the first time he was able to make a decision for himself he had traded his soul to a demon. Sebastian…the only thing that he had _chosen_ to have in his life.  
Ciel crumpled up the letter he had been writing to thank a potential investor in Germany for their interest in his company. He tossed it in the wastebasket across the room, before it bounced out. He sighed, getting up out of his chair. He locked the door to his study. Judging by the smell penetrating the entire mansion, Sebastian was still hard at work, baking, and there was a little bit of time to allow him some small comfort.   
Pulling one of the armchairs over to the door, he climbed up, fumbling at the top of the door frame, until his hand closed around a silver key. Stepping carefully down from the chair, he pushed it back to the place it had been, angling it just a bit differently, knowing Sebastian would have to put it back in its precise location once more. He loved tormenting Sebastian’s need for perfection, or else pointing out such careless errors. Just another one of the games they played.   
He knelt by his desk, using the key to unlock the bottom drawer. Inside the drawer was a bit of Funtom candy, most of which was being tested and unreleased to the public, underneath which was a series of important documents. When he lifted that bit of the desk, on the bottom sat a small wooden box. Ciel lifted the box gingerly onto his desk, looking beneath it, and turning a gear. When he opened the box, soft music began to play as a strawberry-blonde figurine twirled with a raven-haired man, beneath whom sat a glittering diamond ring set. _Mother. Father. I wonder if things would have been different if it had stayed like this for you. Without...without..._  
Hot tears stung Ciel's cheeks, staining not only his face but his paperwork as well. The music box was one of few relics that Sebastian had reclaimed from the ruins of his manor. This was the legitimate thing, and one of few things that held comfort to him anymore. From his top drawer, he removed the copy of _Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe_ that he had brought over from his room, in case he needed a break from his work while he waited for his snack.   
He opened the book directly to the page with one of his favorite pieces, “The Raven” which he could almost confidently recite by memory. Betwixt the pages sat Sebastian's feather. Just seeing it sent heat rushing directly to his heart, where it burned and ached, pounding hard as if losing a fight. It almost felt like an asthma attack, which was both annoying and frightening. He didn't like the way he felt when he looked at it...or thought about last night.   
Sebastian was no angel. He would never do something so uncharacteristically kind for his master, nor would Ciel stand for it. So why? Why had this feather ended up in his bed as though the Gods in heaven knew that he had needed that comfort from his nightmares? Gods. Such a foolish notion. He had given up on any God before he'd sold his soul to a demon. If there was a God in heaven, he'd given up on Ciel Phantomhive for some reason when he was twelve, and lost his parents, his manor burned, and a cult abducted him, using him for their own pleasures, before attempting to sacrifice him to the very demon he now held a contract with. His body was rigid with both embarrassment and fear, that someone should see the small token that somehow had wound up in his bed with him.   
He looked to the window. The trees in the courtyard were blowing in the breeze. He could easily just toss it out the window, nonchalantly and let the wind take it away, plaguing him no more with such persistent thoughts, like the “Tell Tale Heart” that had driven its owner insane with its dark secrets. It was just a simple feather. His hand closed around it, protectively, as a knock at the door made him jump.   
“Young master?”   
His heart raced fast, as the box fell to the floor. Ciel scrambled to pick it up, tucking the feather safely inside without much thought. He closed the box and jammed it in his drawer quickly.   
“Just a moment, Sebastian,” he said, sure he'd noticed his pitch elevate slightly.   
Trying to regain his calm, he hid the key away in the top drawer, beneath a few pens and envelopes. He double checked to make certain the bottom drawer was secured, straightening his shirt, before walking to the door, and unlocking it. Sebastian waited a few moments before wheeling the serving cart in. Ciel couldn't meet his gaze. He knew Sebastian was questioning him on why he'd locked the door in the first place, even if he didn‘t address such concerns out loud.   
“It's about time,” Ciel said, putting on his best voice of irritation as he walked back to his desk, sitting down in his plush chair.   
_He’s acting very peculiar again. Very uncharacteristic of himself. I wonder what he could be hiding this time._ Sebastian mused.   
“My apologies, young Master. I had to help the Lady Elizabeth lace Grell Sutcliff into a dress, which gave Bard just enough time to obliterate the kitchen. I swear no matter how many flamethrowers I take from him he manages to find another, though I suppose that’s best lest he just start throwing gasoline around the kitchen and do irreparable damage,” Sebastian said, moving the armchair back to it’s proper location before going to the cart. “I’ve prepared you a few extra things as you were unable to eat breakfast. I’ve brought you Cornish pasties and chips, as well as an orchard fruit cake and of course your chocolate chip scones. For this afternoon’s tea I’ve selected an oasis mango tea.”   
Sebastian set the plate of Cornish pasties and chips on the desk, before pouring the tea and setting the cup and saucer down beside it.   
“What the hell is this?” Ciel said, adamantly, glaring at his butler, “I asked for scones, not...this...rubbish.” His heart was still rushing from adrenaline, “Give them to me.”   
“Young master, I must insist that you eat something a bit more substantial before moving on to your sweets. You haven’t eaten all day, and it will be quite awhile before the ball and later still for dinner. You cannot simply live on sugar, my lord.”   
“If you had done your job and kept an eye on that idiot, my breakfast would not have eluded me. It was not a request. My scones, Sebastian.”   
“No,” Sebastian retorted without hesitation, “You really must eat something of sustenance. As for this morning’s incident, you know perfectly well that I could easily have stopped Grell, but it was you who explicitly forbade me from using my powers in front of other humans…well, humans that we plan on keeping alive.”   
He smiled before adding, “Now, if you’ll please, try your pasties and chips.”   
“So you'll punish me for not allowing your fun, then?” Ciel asked snidely, giving in, his stomach not allowing him to protest further as he cut into the pasty. It wasn't bad. Nothing Sebastian made was ever bad. Two bites in, he tried again, “Now, may I have my scone?” he said, crossing his arms in utter displeasure.   
“I hardly consider that sustenance. Have patience. I assure you, your scones aren’t going anywhere. You may have them afterward, and your Orchard Fruit Cake as well. That should keep you sated until tonight's ball. I have several hor d’oeuvres planned that I think you‘ll enjoy.”   
“Fine,” Ciel groaned, continuing to eat, avoiding Sebastian's gaze.   
When he was done, he'd given up on the scones, instead, resting his head against his desk in irritation, letting out an exasperated sigh.  
Not partaking in scones? _This must be serious. I hope it has nothing to do with…that feather._  
“Is something wrong, master?” Sebastian asked.   
“What am I to do, Sebastian? About Elizabeth?” He wanted Sebastian to get rid of the girl. Any excuse would do. It wouldn't have been the first time that he was 'sick' or 'had a meeting' or some other miniature disaster had befallen that sent the Lady Elizabeth on her way.   
_Hmm,_ Sebastian pondered, _Perhaps it would be best if the master went through this hardship. He must learn to be more sociable to fulfill his duties as a nobleman. As for the Lady Elizabeth, maybe some time with his fiancé will help focus his attentions on something, anything, other than…Poe._  
“I believe the wisest course of action is to go along with her plan,” Sebastian said, as he replaced the teapot on the silver cart, “I don't think she's going to listen to reason.”  
“Can't you just give her some tea or something and get her out of here?” Ciel whined, feeling both childish and rather guilty the second the words passed his lips. “...I...I don't have time for a stupid ball,” he added, trying to make his previous words sound less harsh.  
“My lord,” Sebastian said, facing his master, “the Lady Elizabeth would like a dance. You cannot refuse her.”  
Disdain crept over Ciel's features once more, abandoning all pretenses of kindness in his last statement. He put his tea to his lips, inhaling the aroma; but not taking a sip before he looked away, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.   
Sebastian worked hard not to smile, “Master...”   
“What now?” Ciel asked, the humiliation evident in both his faltering voice, and the fact that he looked at his desk rather than Sebastian, far more interested in his teacup's contents than his butler's words.   
“I know I've never seen you dance before, but, I assume that you can?”   
_Bastard. Just with the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he is enjoying this too much. It is going to be another game where Sebastian hits hard, leaving me vulnerable, humiliated. His favorite type of game, no doubt...leaving me feeling nothing but fury. I hate losing any game, and the only time I do is against that damn demon. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. He can’t beat me if I refuse to play._ Ciel raised the papers he'd been working on to cover his face and avoid the question that Sebastian would keep moving him into check with.   
“Oh, I see,” Sebastian said, any amusement leaving his features as he continued by cutting the exquisite looking cake he'd prepared, “That explains why you're such a wallflower at social engagements.”   
“I have too much work to do. I don't have time to waste on dancing,” Ciel protested from behind his paperwork.   
Sebastian snatched the papers out of his grasp, coming no more than half a foot from his face, plate of cake in hand “With all due respect, dancing is a necessary skill for a person of your position to possess in your line of work, master.”   
Ciel looked away as Sebastian continued. The more this carried on, the less he liked where it was going. “Social contracts are important to maintain. The world expects any noble gentlemen to possess at least rudimentary dance skills. If you turn down too many invitations simply because you cannot dance, your reputation in high society will suffer greatly,” Sebastian insisted.   
His butler’s face so close to his own was making Ciel shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Fine, I'll do it!” Anything. Anything to make Sebastian move before Ciel’s face flushed any brighter.   
“Now stop the lecture,” Ciel demanded, taking the cake; but, as hungry as he was, he barely looked at it. “Call in a private tutor or something. Mrs. Bright or Mrs. Rodkin should work well enough...”   
“We don't have sufficient time to call in a tutor for you, my lord,” Sebastian explained, checking his pocket watch. _Still very behind schedule for today, and this ball was certainly not on today‘s agenda. No matter. It is most certainly necessary. And if I couldn‘t do all of this…well, what kind of a butler would I be?_  
“There's only one option,” Sebastian continued, “With your permission, I will be your dance instructor.”   
_That cheeky Cheshire cat smirk. I should have known. Damn him. Damn him._ Ciel slammed his fists on his desk, silver fork still in hand as he protested rather audibly, “Don't be ridiculous! I'm not going to take dancing instruction from a man!” Least of all you. He held his hands up in objection, “Besides, do you even know how to dance?”  
“The Viennese waltz is my specialty. I was a guest at Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna from time to time.”  
_Now the bastard is just gloating._  
“Now if you would do me the honor, my lady,” he continued, holding out his hand, “May I have this dance?”   
Ciel's teeth grit together, “Who are you calling a lady?”   
“Pardon, my lord it is merely an expression, though I must admit you are doing a fine job at playing the part.”  
“I said NO,” Ciel continued, glaring into Sebastian, “Absolutely not. I refuse. Are there any other ways I can say it to get my point through your idiotic skull?”   
“Very well then, sir, if you don’t mind being the laughing stock of high society, by all means I shall leave you to your…paperwork.” Sebastian turned and walked to the door.   
“Wait, Sebastian,” he groaned. Ciel couldn't let anything soil the reputation of the name of Phantomhive, least of all something as trivial and mundane as dancing. _Why do the well-to-do of England take such value in such a meaningless thing?_  
“Can't I at least finish my cake first?” he protested, needing at least some small consolation prize if he wasn’t going to win the battle. The cake was extremely moist and cooked, as always to perfection.   
“Do hurry, my lord,” Sebastian said with a sigh, checking his pocket watch once more, “We are terribly behind schedule as it is, and seeing as how you have never so much as attempted to dance I fear you have a great deal to learn.”   
“Must it be you? I scarcely believe there is no one we can call in...” Just the thought of Sebastian's hands so lewdly placed on him, pulling him close, their bodies pressed against each other. Ciel felt his stomach clench at the thought, his body growing hotter, his shorts becoming uncomfortably constrictive. He found himself thankful that he was sitting behind his desk, able to hide a blatantly visible sign of such shameful pleasure.   
_His heart is beating so fast, his face flushing a bit, and a distinct detection of pheromones in the air, Sebastian noted, Surely he isn’t…aroused? There is certainly nothing arousing about this situation. Then again, I forget how easily aroused young men can be. Yes, that’s all._  
“It would take far too much time for them to arrive to teach you such a lesson that the ball would have already begun before you had even learned how to dance. Honestly, my lord, you are being rather stubborn on the matter for no reason.”  
Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of himself. He did enjoy teasing his young master, even when he wasn’t aware he was being teased.   
_That smirk. He couldn’t possibly know? Could he?_ Ciel's eyes were once again on the tea in his hand, rather than the demon's. He couldn‘t bear to meet his gaze if he did know such a thing. “It's humiliating. It's improper to dance with someone below one's station...a man at that. Especially someone like you. And for that matter, I will take my time, Sebastian. In case you'd forgotten, I asked you for these scones nearly two hours ago, and I've yet to try them.”   
“I’m afraid you haven’t the time for scones, my lord. We really need to get started. You wouldn’t want to keep the Lady Elizabeth waiting now would you?” Sebastian insisted as he took the plate of half eaten cake and set it back on the silver serving chart, before collecting the cup and saucer as well.   
“How dare you?” Ciel hissed, irate that his meal had once again been stolen away from him. He went to stand, only to think better of it at the last second, and clench his fists at his desk.   
“So you would rather show up to your own ball late because you haven‘t had sufficient time to prepare yourself all because you had a craving for chocolate? How terribly uncouth. I‘m beginning to think that you care nothing of your position in society. I am merely trying to help you keep from disgracing yourself, my lord. Now if you‘ll please,” Sebastian said, offering his hand to Ciel.   
Ciel felt his heart stop. He couldn't get up now. In one swift motion he got up, going to put his walking stick against the wall. It wasn't something he ever cared about. It was fine resting against his desk; but, he needed an excuse...something...anything to allow for the chance to readjust himself into a less conspicuous position. He hoped that by not taking his hand and turning his back to Sebastian, made a good show that he was still angry at his butler for taking away his food and putting him in such a ridiculous position, rather than let on to any of his true emotions he wanted nothing more than to be rid of.   
“I apologize for the lack of music, but it’s a little hard to play violin and teach you how to waltz at the same time,” Sebastian smiled, “Are you quite ready yet?”   
Ciel turned to face his butler, his ever present scowl firmly intact, masking any hint of lust. “I suppose we should get it over with, then.”   
“Let's begin. To lead, you start the first step on your heel. Be sure to keep your hand firmly upon the lady's back,” Sebastian said, placing Ciel's hand on his waist. Ciel felt something hitch in his throat again, his entire body freeze.   
“When the music starts, lead with your left foot.”   
Ciel looked down at their feet, nervous and uncomfortable, and realizing Sebastian was moving. By the time he'd processed that fact, he'd already knocked into Sebastian's foot with his shoe. His face was crimson. He was uncoordinated. He wanted to let go. Sebastian was holding him too firmly, ignoring Ciel's misstep as though it hadn't happened at all.   
“Next, we'll try a natural turn. Slide your foot forward, like this.”   
This time, Ciel's foot dug into Sebastian's ankle, knocking him forward, and into his butler's chest, his hips pressed for a moment against his butler's. Sebastian’s own lust stirred in him and before he even realized it, he was contemplating how quickly he could bend his master over the desk quenching both of their evident insatiable desires.   
As if capable of knowing such promiscuous thoughts, Ciel pulled away quickly, his breathing erratic, heart pounding, and his face stained with utter humiliation.   
Sebastian sighed, suppressing such thoughts. He was a butler foremost, a tutor secondly, and neither of which allowed for such distractions.   
“Your natural ability for dancing isn't so much lacking, as it is non-existent, my lord. You cannot simply cling for dear life onto your dance partner.”   
“You're too big, it's not working!” Ciel protested, trying to hide his embarrassment with anger, as was so often the case.   
_“Sebastian, you’re too big,” Ciel moaned, after being bent over the desk, “There’s no way you’re going to fit inside of me.”_  
_“Come now, Ciel, there’s so much more you have to learn. Here, let me show you.”_  
Sebastian ripped himself away from such thoughts, his blood rushing, as he continued. “Most importantly,” Sebastian said, pinching his master’s cheek, forcing his mouth into a smile, “you need to wipe that gloomy look off of your face. The lady will take it as an insult. Now, let's have a smile. Pretend it's fun.”   
“Let me go!” Ciel yelled, slapping Sebastian's hand away.   
“Master...”   
“I can't smile... “ he said, turning away and running his thumb gently against the blue diamond of his ring. “I forgot how...I don't know how to pretend like I'm having fun... not anymore.”   
_What is he thinking? I...don't like these games. He's acting incredibly odd...almost humanly erroneous._ And yet...he looked up, his heart pounding as he met Sebastian's eyes. He shook his head, clearing it of such fuzzy thoughts, offering his butler his hand once more.   
“Are you just going to stand there like an idiot, or shall we continue?”   
His fluttering heart, its blood flowing below his belt rather than his head, it meant nothing. He knew what had to happen. He had to learn to dance...for Elizabeth...his fiancé. Sebastian's body so carefully placed against his own was a tool, an object of education, and not lust. These touches of a tutor were from one who enjoyed seeing Ciel's pain...not of a lover who relished in the closeness. It meant nothing.   
“Very well, my lord,” Sebastian answered, clearing his throat, “From the top then, shall we?”  
After a few more attempts, Ciel was still terrible, but it was still a great improvement from their first attempt. Sebastian checked his pocket watch again. “I suppose this will have to do, my lord. You still have a great deal of work, but you should be quite capable for tonight. I have to go make preparations for the ball, but I shall be up to dress you shortly.”   
Sebastian grabbed the silver serving cart and opened the door to the study.   
“Sebastian,” Ciel said softly, taking his seat behind the desk once more. Something in the softness of the way he called his name made Sebastian’s heart clench.   
“Yes, my lord?”  
“Leave the scones.”   
“Of course, young master.”   
As the door closed, Ciel couldn't stand to think about it any longer after that kind of humiliation. His mind was racing, wondering what Sebastian was thinking about, right now. His scones remained untouched, and his tea was now completely cold.   
Gritting his teeth in irritation, he ripped the drawer containing the music box open, grabbing only the feather from its contents before shoving it back in its place within his desk. It twirled beneath his fingertips, soft and pristine, not unlike a bird's feathers.   
Warmth flooded him again, radiating from head to toe. What would it be like to be completely encased in a demon's wings? His heart pounded, clutching the feather. These thoughts, these lewd and inappropriate 'affections' were destroying him. He didn't know why, or when, or where they had started. The most important of those questions was why. Why did he lust after his butler...cling to his approval, and yearned for those "Good morning, young master, let's get you dressed" slips of the fingers?   
_Slips of the fingers..._ he thought, prying the window open, still clutching the feather. It was this easy. He held the feather to the wind, watching it blow gently in the breeze as if just the feather blowing somewhere far away, would take his emotions with it. 

***** 

“I believe this one is the one she wants you to wear for tonight,” Sebastian said, pulling out a crisp blue outfit, as he began undressing his master.   
Sebastian couldn’t suppress his thoughts from earlier. His lord sat on the edge of his bed, half dressed as Sebastian’s hands deftly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling off one article of clothing after another. He couldn’t stop thinking about laying him back on the bed, greeting his lips softly with his own.  
_“Sebastian, don’t stop. Don’t ever leave my side.”_  
_“Never…Ciel…I will never leave your side.”_  
_Why can’t I make these incessant thoughts stop? I have duties to attend to. I haven’t the time for these matters. I don’t know why I can’t make them go away, why he continues to plague my mind. I don’t like it. How crass of me to think such things when his fiancé is here, downstairs waiting for him no less._  
_Why is he looking at me like that?_ Ciel thought, feeling flushed again, his head a bit dizzy, and his stomach jolting with nausea. He rest his hands in his lap, lest he have a repeat of this afternoon’s previous embarrassment. He scarcely dared breathe as he stole glances to his butler, trying to fathom what could be going on in the demon's mind. It was a few moments before he pulled himself together.  
“Yes, she said she'd bought it in London. Though, I scarcely see what's wrong with my clothes. How ridiculous to go through so much trouble.”   
“I believe the phrase is that your clothes are ‘not cute, not cute at all.’ She really does mean well. She’s just trying to take care of you, to assimilate into her role as your future wife. It is what society expects of her.”   
Ciel sighed, standing up so that Sebastian could dress him, “You know as well as I that there is no truth to statements about the future. Meaning well, or not, I find this fruitless.” He had to admit that she'd chosen the color well. His personal tailor had always chosen darker colors for him, as was fitting...but this bright blue looked quite nice. “Meaningless like every other aspect of my life,” he muttered.   
A fine choice indeed from the girl. The color really brought out his eyes, well the one that still retained the color of innocence. His master’s other eye bore the seal of their contract, binding them together. It was his eye, just as his soul belonged to him as well, and he found it rather beautiful.   
“Do you not find any amount of comfort in these things? Your revenge will be completed soon enough, the contract complete. Do you not find joy in the present, knowing there is no future to behold?”   
“Why should I? I have but one purpose. Everything that happens in my life until the contract is fulfilled is simply another game,” he smirked, “Another dance. Twisting and turning to put my affairs together, and leave everyone happily ignorant in their perfect lives.”  
“Yes, but aren’t games suppose to be fun? If you have no eternal paradise to hope for, should you not at least enjoy yourself here on Earth, while you still have time?”   
_His soul, so sweet and savory, a glorious feast comparable to none other. Sometimes I forget that it is his delicacy of a soul that binds us together. I would do well to focus on the matter at hand, rather than what can never be._  
“I didn't come back to _have fun._ ” Ciel said firmly, looking at himself in the mirror.   
He would allow Lizzy her fun. It certainly wasn't her fault his soul was damned to hell, or that his life had been shattered. The girl had done nothing but try to make him happy. For that, though he would never admit it, he'd be forever in her debt. Even if he could never smile, never be happy...she still tried, when the rest of the world had given up on him...the little girl in pretty pink bows was still there. At the same time, he felt callous for allowing her hope of something that could never be...the thoughts tore away at him, even as Sebastian finished dressing him with a tiny blue hat. When he held up the ring, Ciel came back to reality.   
“Leave it,” he ordered, running a finger over the blue diamond ring again.   
“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian answered, putting the ring back in its box, and grabbing the walking stick instead, with a smile, “Best not to keep the Lady waiting. She might find some surface she has yet to cover in hearts and frills and remedy the matter.”   
“Remove it all the moment she leaves. I will not tolerate such tactless clutter in my mansion. Let's go,” he said, standing at his door, and waiting for Sebastian to open it. “Oh, and Sebastian. I want her on her way as soon as this ball is done. Send Grell Sutcliff to escort her back to Auntie, and return to Madame Red. I think he‘s proven himself to be more of an inconvenience than he‘s worth. I‘d like to have a quiet evening when this is all over, with my mansion still intact.”  
Sebastian’s Cheshire cat smirk appeared, “Oh? Does this mean you are through punishing me?”  
“I told you it was a favor to Madame Red, and not a punishment,” he smirked for a moment, but let it fade to a frown as Sebastian opened the door, “I rather enjoy my morning tea and scones being uninterrupted. An inconvenience to you is amusing, but certainly not worth inconveniencing myself. I don't need any more havoc than the other three already muster. Peace and quiet would be a nice change.”   
“I shall see to it then, my lord,” Sebastian replied, walking behind his master as they set off down the hall.   
“What the hell...?” Ciel muttered, his face falling into his hand, as he watched Lizzie doing her best to attempt to make a terrified Mey-Rin look adorable. “Just leave her alone!” Ciel demanded, adamantly to Lizzie, before continuing down the stairs, Sebastian, as always, in his wake.   
“Ciel! You look adorable!” Lizzie squealed, more than pleased with herself as she tackled Ciel again, spinning him around in circles, “That outfit is absolutely perfect!”   
_She tries so hard to make him happy, > Sebastian mused, _Maybe one day she’ll succeed. I think he deserves that at least. I think I would like to see him happy. Though to have a happiness and then be ripped away so prematurely, maybe he is right to close himself off and never know that which he is missing rather than having it so briefly before the end._  
As Ciel spun, he caught that stupid grin on Sebastian's face again. That demon was having too much fun today.   
Grabbing Ciel's hand, Lizzie glared at the ring on Ciel's thumb, “Ciel, why aren't you wearing the ring I bought you? It matches your clothing perfectly, now where did it go?”   
Ciel pulled his hand away indignantly, “The ring I already have on will work.”   
“No!” she whined, sinking to her knees, nearly in tears “I went to so much trouble and that ring isn't cute at all! Oh, why wouldn't you wear the ring that I picked out specially for you?! You're so cruel! I just want everything to be perfect for our lovely--”   
“That's not it,” Ciel continued to protest, explaining gently, “Lizzie, this ring is--”   
“Ha! Fooled you!” she said, snatching Ciel's ring, holding it away, adding triumphantly, “It's mine now!”   
“Lizzie,” Ciel growled, stepping forward.   
“This is far too big for you! The one I bought will fit perfectly. Just put it on, and...”   
“Give it back!” Ciel demanded, his voice dropping the false-sugar. The servants' mouths dropped open, seeing such an aggressive side of the young master towards the Lady Elizabeth. “Give me that ring, now, Elizabeth.” His voice was frantic, yet firm and demanding at the same time.   
“Wh-Why are you so angry at me? I just... wanted...”   
Ciel's eyes narrowed and Lizzy backed away, surprised to see Ciel so...angry…   
“What's wrong...?” she continued, “I just wanted to make everything look adorable, that's all...so why... why are you so angry?! I hate this ring! Take it!”   
She threw it full-force to the floor, where the metal band broke, the stone chipped.   
Ciel saw red, anger flooding him, as he gritted his teeth. Much like the music box, and his parent‘s wedding bands...this ring...was his father's.   
_How dare she. How dare she be so careless, so childish. My father’s ring…I’ll make you pay most dearly._ He shook, not thinking before he rounded on her, his hand flying up to strike her.   
_Such a spoiled, selfish child,_ Sebastian contemplated, _She deserves many things, but not this. A ring, I can repair, my master’s reputation is less easily fixed._  
“Master...” Sebastian said, grabbing Ciel's hand mere inches from Lizzy's terrified face, and placing his new walking stick firmly in his hand, “You forgot the walking stick we went to so much trouble to get.”   
Ciel's eyes widened in shock. _What was I about to do? To Elizabeth? She‘s...crying, afraid of me...I never wanted her to feel like this, ever, especially not because of me._  
Sebastian bowed to Elizabeth, attempting to rectify his master‘s error, “Forgive my master, Lady Elizabeth, but that ring was something very important to him. It's a precious heirloom passed down to the head of the Phantomhive family. He's grown quite attached to it; it's truly one-of-a-kind. Please try to understand why this upset him.”   
Ciel barely heard his butler’s words, striding over to pick up what was left of his beloved ring, staring at it in his palm. _My father had been wearing it the day he had died, just like so many Phantomhives before him. I’d always pictured I’d be wearing it when Sebastian…It’s foolish really to hold on to a meaningless inanimate object. What does it really matter whether or not I am wearing a ring when Sebastian takes my soul. I’ll still be dead either way._  
“I-It was that important...” Lizzie sniffled, “and I just destroyed it? Oh Ciel, please, I...Ciel..?”  
Ciel walked to the window. _Foolish indeed,_ he thought, as he coolly tossed the ring into the courtyard.   
“Wait, what are you doing?!” Lizzie said, horrified as she ran to the window.   
“It doesn't matter. It was nothing but an old ring, after all. Even without it...” he said, regaining the pride in his voice, “I'm still the head of the Phantomhives, and that won't change!”   
_That fire. Such conviction. It’s what I love about him, about…his soul,_ Sebastian thought, his eyes widening before his features softened into a smile.   
He watched Ciel maintain such unwavering conviction, as he strode over to Elizabeth. He knew how much the ring had devastated his young master, one of few things that was actually considered precious, yet he put on such a brilliant show for them all, a flawless performance, it was like watching a Shakespearean play performance front row, center stage.   
He pulled out his violin, _Such a remarkably beautiful soul, the kind of feast most demons can only dream of having a taste of. I believe no one has, nor ever will compare to this bountiful feast in store. This is as it should be. He is my prey, and I am his demon, nothing more._  
“How long are you going to cry?”   
“I-I'm so sorry...”   
Ciel put on his hat, withdrawing a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, as though there were no reason at all for tears.   
“Your face is a mess, completely unsuitable for a lady.” His features gave way, finally softening into what seemed a genuine smile, “How could I possibly ask a lady with a runny nose and puffy eyes to dance?”   
“To dance?” She'd no more uttered the words, than the smooth flow of music began from the top of the stairs. Sebastian had began playing his violin; and, Grell, had began to sing. _He’s not half bad,_ Ciel thought to himself, _Apparently we’ve found a use for him after all._ “So then, we are agreed?” Ciel asked, offering his hand to a now blushing Lizzy, “We'll forget our cares and dance the night away. It's decided.”  
“Yes!”   
Ciel spun Elizabeth out onto the floor, trying his best to remember the steps Sebastian had taught him. At least he hadn’t stepped on Elizabeth’s foot. His gaze kept darting to the top of the stairs to Sebastian playing violin. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dance lesson, the feel of Sebastian’s body so close to his. Why didn’t he have the same feeling with Elizabeth in his arms now? She was, after all, his betrothed, who he was supposed to be with. He looked up at her, those doe eyes filled with… **love**. _No. Please, no. She can’t love me. No one can. It’s too cruel a fate, for either of us._  
They danced until Ciel's feet were sore, and Lizzie's eyes could barely stay open. Sebastian more or less had to carry her to the carriage.   
“Don't worry. I'll make sure she gets home safely,” Grell said, with a smile “You can count on me.”   
“Are you sure?” Bard teased, just as thankful to be rid of the catastrophe that was Grell Sutcliff.   
“Indeed. I'm more deadly efficient than I appear.”   
He went to Sebastian, instead, grasping his hands in gratitude, though Sebastian seemed far less amused, “Thank you so much, Sebastian. I'm in your debt, you've taught me a lot about what it means to be a butler! They say that before a person dies, his life flashes before him. I know that when I see the light of death, this momentous evening is what will appear to me in my dying vision.”   
Sebastian's lack of interest took a turn, as he cocked his head to the side, “Interesting that you would say that.”   
“That's true. He hasn't been very good at dying so far, has he?” Mey-Rin laughed. She didn't mind Grell, too much. Like the rest of them, he seemed a bit hopeless.   
“Indeed, he hasn’t,” Sebastian agreed, “No matter. I’m sure that you’ll find something you are good at one day. Harvest time will be here before you know it, perhaps you’re more of a gardener than a butler, what with the fine job you did on our shrubbery.”   
“I’ve always been deadly efficient with a pair of shears, though I actually used a chainsaw for the hedges. For fall, I plan on planting twin rows of apple trees for Madame’s walkway. It will add a festive shade of red to the dreary old landscape, and I’ve always been rather fond of apples.”   
“Do make sure to take good care of the Lady Elizabeth,” Sebastian reminded him, getting back on track, “Should anything happen to my master’s fiancé because of your negligent hands, well, I shall hold you personally responsible and kill you. Good evening, drive safe.” Sebastian smiled at Grell with this last statement.   
The carriage set off for the main road before Sebastian wheeled on the other three, who cowered slightly, expecting some repercussions for the day’s disasters. Strangely Sebastian’s smile remained in tact. “You three.”   
“Y-yes, Mr. Sebastian, sir?” Mey-Rin asked.   
“There are left over hor d'oeuvres in the kitchen. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves. I’ll see to cleaning the manor after I’ve put the young master to bed.”   
“Did you here that?” Bard said, victoriously, “We get to eat and not clean!”   
“Mr. Sebastian’s so nice, yes he is!” Mey-Rin said, excitedly, blushing a bit.   
“I can’t wait!” Finny chimed in.   
“Don’t get used to it,” Sebastian said, his smile fading, and his usual sternness returning to his voice, “Grell Sutcliff has merely proven that you three are not completely as useless as you seem. Besides I haven’t the time for any more mistakes tonight, and the best way to ensure that is to keep you three out of the way. We are still very behind schedule. The young master should have been to bed hours ago.”   
As the three filed into the house, Sebastian remained in the courtyard. It was easy enough to find the ring, the silver glinting in the moonlight. He picked it up and held it in the palm of his hand. He used his teeth to take the glove off of his other hand. He simply ran his finger over the ring and it was repaired, not new of course, but just as his master had remembered it. “There now. That’s better. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”_

_*****_

_“It's finally over. What a horrible day it's been,” Ciel said, finally getting to drop the act. But it wasn't over. Sebastian was buttoning his nightshirt...and he felt his cheeks burning, much as he had as he had been bathed and dried.  
He began to wonder if he should hire a butler to simply bathe and dress him...or if he should just learn to do so himself. Keeping Sebastian doing these tasks was seeming like a less plausible option as the days went by.   
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself for a while there, my lord.”   
“Don't be so foolish.”   
“Am I the fool here?“ Sebastian asked, kneeling and taking Ciel’s hand in his own, “I know the importance of this ring.”   
Ciel’s heart nearly stopped, when Sebastian took his hand. It did stop, when he realized his father's ring was back in its rightful place. He gasped, his eyes widening, and catching Sebastian's. He found he could not look away, and his heart burned yet again. It tortured him.   
Sebastian’s own heart clenched, feeling his master’s hand in his own, seeing the look on his face at the sight of his precious heirloom returned.   
_Strangely, this clenching was becoming less bothersome, almost pleasurable. Strange…very strange indeed._  
“And yet you put on that act for Lady Elizabeth,“ Sebastian continued, “If I couldn't do this much for my master, well then, what kind of butler would I be?”   
His hands were still closed around Ciel's, not really wanting to let go. “But you should take care. It is precious, this ring. It has seen so much.”   
“That is true...” Ciel said, as Sebastian let go of Ciel’s hand and began to take off his eye patch, “It's always there. This ring has seen the deaths of many masters. My grandfather, my father, and eventually the ring will witness my own death as well. It's heard the dying screams of the Phantomhive family for generation upon generation.”   
Ciel's eyes closed, as his hands wove into his hair, “When I close my eyes, I hear them too. Voices echoing in my head, if I throw the ring away, I won't have to listen to them screaming anymore. At least that's what I believed. Ridiculous. Yes?”   
_His mind is so troubled, undoubtedly another night of nightmares is in store. Perhaps reading some Poe will give him some small comfort, if he hasn’t gotten rid of…_ “My, look how high the moon has risen. You must get some rest, sir. Don't want to make yourself ill, do you?” Sebastian asked, avoiding the question and pulling the blankets up over Ciel's shoulders. He had reached the door before Ciel worked up the courage to say his next words.   
_“Sebastian. Stay with me, until I fall asleep.”_  
Those words…hearing them spoke consciously, sent a cold chill up Sebastian‘s spine. His heart beat a bit faster, still clenching in a mix of pain and pleasure.   
“Goodness... are you displaying weakness in front of me now?”   
Ciel stiffened for a moment, wishing he'd never asked, before he retorted, “Just a simple order.”  
Sebastian walked back to the bed, setting the candelabra on the nightstand. “I will stay here. I'm by your side forever, master. Until the end...”   
Sebastian couldn’t help but glance at the nightstand. It was tempting to casually open it and begin reading Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. No, he would keep his master’s secrets, for whatever reason he wanted to keep them hidden. He walked over to the bookcase, pulling out a collection of Shakespeare’s plays, sitting in the armchair near the window, as he began reading aloud.  
As Ciel rolled over onto his side, closing his eyes, he reached into his pillowcase. His greedy fingers wrapped guiltily around something soft, a feather.   
It hadn’t been as easy as he thought to let go of such a meaningless token after all. No, not meaningless. _He’s seen me as I really am, when I am at my weakest and most vulnerable state, and yet he doesn’t turn away. He was there when no one else was, protecting me, even when I am fighting an imaginary battle he remains my shield, guarding me even from my own tormented mind. This feather is proof of that, and it makes it mean almost more than this ring I wear._ Even now, Ciel was unable to let go of the feather, holding it tightly, his hand still inside the pillowcase.  
Sebastian couldn’t see, could never know. He might die if Sebastian began mocking him, humiliating him more than he already had been.   
The scent of lavender found Ciel, combining with the feel of the feather and enveloped him, making him feel like he was drowning in something that could scarcely be called anything less than…love.   
His heart beat harder, just admitting such a forbidden word even to himself. As his eyelids got heavier, he was not being held down on a table or branded, nor raped or tortured. Instead he found himself, standing in a garden...filled with lavender, and delicate roses.   
Sebastian wasn’t wearing his tailcoat, and his sleeves were rolled up. It was the way he always looked when he bathed Ciel. He smiled at him, before wrapping his arms around Ciel. “I’ve got you, my love. I’ll always be here to protect you. Always.”   
He was halfway through “Much Ado About Nothing” before he realized Ciel had fallen asleep. He was smiling, slightly, but it was the happiest he’d seen him in months. He was rather beautiful when he slept. He contemplated for a few minutes about laying beside his master, holding him in his arms like he had last night, but there were no nightmares, no panic attacks, to blame such an embrace on in case his master should wake.   
Instead, he gently brushed away hair from his master’s eyes. “Sleep well, my…Ciel. Sleep well Ciel. Sleep well, my Ciel.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, trying to find the right emphasis.   
His heart clenched again, his blood flowing fast. He couldn’t help but feel that the words belonged on his tongue, and couldn’t help but picture other things his tongue seemed to be made for, using it to part his Ciel’s lips in a kiss.   
As he closed the door to Ciel’s bedroom, his words rang in his head. Sebastian stay with me.   
_This clenching in my chest, my heart beating so fast. Yet another long forsaken emotion. It has a name. Is this called love? No. Not love. Some other name, I cannot recall. Love is the most dangerous and unpredictable emotion of all. I can’t afford to be so careless. Taking his soul is one thing, but there are fates worse than death, and I refused to put him in such a crossfire. Not for something so foolish as love. This bothersome clenching in my chest, it will pass._  
His head fell into his palm. A low laugh escaped him at such thoughts, before he continued down the hall. “Now, I must prepare for tomorrow.”_


	4. His Butler, Correspondence

“Young master, for today I’ve prepared an apple raisin pie, with a white tea infused with lavender, rose petals, and peaches. I know you’ve been rather stressed my lord, having trouble sleeping. This blend should help to put your mind at ease.”  
Ciel's eyes were fixated at the floral arrangement on the table, where for some unknown reason, lavender had been used amongst the white roses, despite the fact that the flower did not grow in any of the gardens on the grounds. No tea could ease the thoughts racing through his mind. _Does he know that I’m aware that cursed flower bears the same scent as him? Is this merely one of his games to mock me? Does the smell come from his hair or his skin?_  
“Here you are, sir,” Sebastian replied, setting the succulent pie in front of his master.   
“Why?” Ciel asked.  
“I beg your pardon, my lord?”   
“The lavender. I don't remember it being in the garden,” he said, trying to take a bite of the pie Sebastian had prepared, stopping shy of his mouth and setting the fork down, “Why did you decide to use it?”  
“Oh? I thought you quite liked the scent of lavender. Is it not to your liking? Should I remove them?”   
His heart pounded, his hands trembling slightly, before dropping the cup of tea. He'd never mentioned lavender to Sebastian. It was a secret he kept as hidden as the feather in his pillow. “N...no.”  
“No they are not to your liking? Or no you do not want me to remove them? I’m sorry, my lord, do try to be specific.” Sebastian began dabbing up the tea with a cloth napkin, “My, you seem a bit flustered my lord. Is everything all right?”   
“No, everything is most certainly not all right,” Ciel scooted the chair out, before standing, his shorts wet where tea had spilled onto his lap. Lashing out at Sebastian seemed so much easier than admitting his feelings. His teeth clenched, “You careless idiot.”   
“My apologies my lord, but if I may be so bold, it was not my shaking hands that dropped your tea. Here let me clean you up,” Sebastian said with a smile, grabbing another napkin and dabbing at his master’s shorts.   
“W-what are you doing!?”   
“Why I’m cleaning up your spill, my lord,” he said, with another smile, “I can’t have you looking so unseemly, now can I? Why, what kind of a butler would I be?”  
“A...a change of clothes...” Ciel stammered, thinking it may be better, at first. Thoughts of that began to plague him...Sebastian peeling clothes from his skin. He took another step backwards, falling into the shrubbery.  
“My, how ridiculous you're being, my lord. Are you really so adverse to getting cleaned up as all that?” Instead of helping Ciel up, Sebastian crawled on top of him. “Whatever could have you so flustered I wonder? Could it be…”   
Sebastian’s lips found Ciel’s, his fingers weaving into his hair, his body pressed against his master’s.   
His body fell limp beneath Sebastian's. He found himself breathless against his butler's hot lips, his own opening in surprise, unable to utter so much as a protest. In fact...the only part of his body that had not gone limp was pressing hard into Sebastian.   
“You greet me so eagerly, my lord. I dare say you’ve been wanting this for some time. How interesting. If you had simply asked, you could have been satisfied so much sooner. I confess, I’ve been thinking about this moment for quite some time as well. I want you…Ciel.” Sebastian’s lips found his once more, one hand still laced in his hair while the other ran down his chest until it found the button of his shorts.   
Ciel’s breath caught in his chest, and he found his lips moving in spite of all of the conflicting emotions and desires dwelling within him. He grabbed Sebastian by the tie, pulling him mere millimeters from his face, “Just shut up and...”  
Hands grabbed him roughly, yanking him away. Would his mind ever sleep soundly, or be forever in the hands of those sinister cultists? No. The hands tightened around him, yanking him up and lifting him out of the comfort of his exquisite four poster bed. This was no dream. This was reality.   
“Fuck, you woke him up, now didn’t you? I thought I told you to knock him out.”   
“Unhand me-” Ciel protested loudly, “Seba---”   
“Shit. How'd I know the kid was a light sleeper?” Bruno snapped, as his large grimy hands wrapped around Ciel’s throat before he could summon his demon. He smelled like greasy chips...revolting. It was only moments before his struggling stopped and he drifted to a world of blackness without the smell of lavender, without the warmth of soft lips, without him.  
Bruno watched as Ciel's eyes rolled back, before his partner ripped him away and Ciel fell limp to the floor, just missing the bedpost.   
“What are you? A fucking idiot? I meant use this!” The man said through gritted teeth, brandishing a rag soaked in chloroform.   
“Use your damn brain! You kill the fucking brat and we’re not getting paid! More importantly, Giovanni will have your fucking head! I’m not losing my cut because you’re a fucking imbecile!”  
“He’s fine. Look,” Bruno said, picking Ciel up and throwing him over his shoulder, “Besides, not like we won’t get paid just as much if the goods are a little damaged. As long as we give him what he came for. Let’s just get this over with. I need a cigar.” 

*****

When Ciel woke, it was not to the aroma of Earl Grey tea, but rather the overwhelming stench of smoke. His head reamed and he was unable to move, several tight straps binding his arms to his side. His chest felt tight from all the smoke, and his ears were ringing so loudly it took a few moments to even make out a voice.   
“Where the hell is Giovanni? He was supposed to meet us for the drop. He‘s late,” Bruno bitched, taking a few puffs off of his third cigar, their stumps beginning to collect in the overflowing ashtray.   
“Fucker’s always late. Probably off having a bit of fun with some girl in that mansion of his. Must be nice to be the boss. Goddamn asshole, if you ask me.”   
Bruno laughed in retort, “I'd like to hear you say that when he gets here. Deal.”   
Ciel heard the shuffling of cards, and the other man spoke once more, “Don‘t you think I‘ve taken enough of your money? At this rate you‘ll be giving me your entire cut. Keep it up and all that work of kidnapping the brat will be for nothing.”   
“Careful who you're talking about, Roland, this here's the queen's guard dog,” Bruno said, feigning fear for the heap on the floor bound in belts. “More like a puppy, I wasn't expecting a kid. Ah, well, too simple, if the bastard would ever get here.”   
“I wouldn’t be making jokes if I were you. Queen’s _guard dog_. There’s a reason that name holds sway in the underworld. People wind up dead when he gets his teeth in ’em. I hear it ain’t the dog you gotta watch out for. It’s the damn curse. Kid’s got a curse on him, I hear. You touch him, you wind up dead. Why do you think I made you grab him? Think I‘m that fucking stupid?” Roland smiled, broadly, revealing a royal flush.   
“You lucky bastard,” Bruno remarked sarcastically, lighting up another cigar, before throwing in more chips.   
Ciel smiled smugly at the mention of a curse. The curse was his demon, who would be making breakfast preparations at any moment, and once he discovered his master gone, he would make these morons believe in things far worse than curses and rightfully fear the name of Phantomhive for what few minutes remained of their pathetic existence.   
“Dead, eh? What kind of curse?” Bruno asked, sounding mildly curious. Ciel hated the way he spoke with his teeth still clinging to the cigar. _Disgusting_. “Spies? An assassin? He's just a kid.”  
“Fuck if I know, but I’m not taking any chances. I guess if you drop face down in your chips then we’ll know won’t we? Assuming you have any chips left by then. Better you then me.”   
“You're a liar and a cheat's what you are. I ain't afraid of some brat.”   
Ciel was ignoring the conversation that he felt was growing more idle by the moment, and instead took in his surroundings, careful to not draw too much attention to himself. The mildew heavily overpowered the stench of smoke. An old house, a manor, judging by the once pristine trim lining the wooden floors. He was likely in the heart of London, where these homes sat abandoned until the summer season, which was coincidentally only a few weeks away. A risky move. They must really be imbeciles, likely some of the men that Lau had mentioned, smuggling drugs and weapons across the sea. Italian. He could tell by the accent - half English, and other times rushing their words in a language Ciel scarcely knew.   
More scum polluting their filth on the homeland. Her Majesty would not be pleased. He struggled against the belts binding him. At least it wasn't a cage. He supposed it served him right for delaying pursuit of the matter. The last thing he noticed was that 'Bruno' was terrible at poker, and worse at bluffing. He obviously didn't know the rules, or at least was as lax with them, as they were about keeping their mouths shut about their trade. He struggled against the bindings again, careful to be as subtle as possible. Unfortunately, they weren‘t completely inept. What they might lack in cards or confidentiality they certainly made up for in their skillful use of restraints. He had no interest in discovering if their talents for torture were just as masterful. He looked out the window. It was dawn now, and soon enough Sebastian would find him missing. The real game would begin. Though, he had a feeling this one would be as dull as the last few. Too easily won. It was always the waiting part that was the worse. It usually ended up hurting like hell.   
“Should be here soon enough,” Roland said.   
Ciel looked up to see the man smiling at him, his eyes tearing away from his cards long enough to take amusement in the Earl’s attempts to struggle. Still holding his cards, Roland knelt beside Ciel. His hand jerked the boy’s face up to force him to look at him, squeezing his face like he were some… _child_.   
“Said he wanted to take care of you personally, brat. Gotta hand it to you, never seen the boss get his hands dirty. You must really know how to piss a man off, little prick.”   
Ciel couldn't help but sneer at the comment. These were things he had heard before. Still, the arrogance both amused and irritated him. They didn't know who, or what they were dealing with. They saw the face of a boy, a boy who should be in school, learning how to fulfill his father's business. Ciel did learn, so much sooner than he should have. But, Phantomhive wasn't like other noble families, manufacturing goods for the trade...the family business was policing the underworld as the queen’s guard dog. The title wasn't pretty, but it got it's point across. It was a different name altogether, one that demanded respect; therefore, this man’s insolence of names like 'kid' and 'brat' bothered him to no end. He refused to show it though.   
“How pathetic,” he scoffed with a smile, “Is that the best you can do? Do you know nothing of the world in which you play, disgusting sewer rats? I piss off many men, I can't see why your boss should be any different. Giovanni Costa, just another giant rat in her majesty's sewers. I suppose I should have taken care of you lot before. No matter.”  
Roland’s hand ripped away from Ciel and without hesitation snatched the cigar out of Bruno’s mouth and seared the orange ember into Ciel’s cheek.   
“Cheeky little prick, aren’t you, eh? You need to learn some fucking manners. Didn’t your parents ever teach you? Do you know who the fuck your talking to? Goddamn sewer rats. Teach you to keep your fucking mouth shut.”   
He spit in Ciel’s face before throwing the cigar to the floor and rubbing out the ash with the heel of his boot. Bruno had already lit up a replacement.   
“Waste of a perfectly good cigar, if you ask me,” Bruno remarked.   
“Who the fuck asked you? I think I have enough of your money I can afford to buy you a box,” Roland replied, his smile returning.   
Ciel laughed, and the two men looked a bit unnerved. For a moment, Roland looked as if he had been better off taking his own advice of not touching the boy, lest he fall victim to 'The Curse'.   
Ciel was used to pain. These arrogant bastards knew nothing on the matter. As if a cigar burn could sting anything more than his pride. Didn't they know that pain was irrelevant? Fleeting? Vengeance was a stronger painkiller than any medicine, and it was all he had to live for. They couldn't hurt him more than he'd already been...nor could they damn him more than he already was. They thought they were safe with him bound tight in belts, a leash for the dog; but they were too busy waiting for a chained dog to bite, that they would never look up in time to see the raven. No one ever did.   
“What the fuck is so funny? You a goddamn lunatic now? Finally snapped, eh boy?”  
“I’m just pretty sure you’ll be dead before you can even make it to the store, that’s all. You’re about to find out what it means to be truly cursed.”   
Ciel wasn't enjoying this game, there was no thrill, and little joy in winning. These mindless drones could hardly be considered worthy adversaries. But, they could still serve a purpose. He didn’t mind seeing a bit of blood shed. When it came down to it, he didn’t care about his orders from the queen, the honor of his family name. What he truly cared about was his own means, his revenge. There was nothing else in this world that held value. Nothing.   
Ciel opened his other eye, revealing the contract seal.   
“Creepy fucking kid,” Bruno said, keeping his distance.   
“Cocky little prick is what he is,” Roland spat, “Fucking watchdog won’t be watching much of anything once I put his goddamn eyes out.”   
Dawn. The damn demon was taking too long. _How careless, Sebastian._ When he spoke, his irritation was evident in his voice. The contract glowed an eerie iridescent shade of purple.  
“Sebastian...” 

*****

Having actually allowed himself the rare luxury of three hours of sleep, Sebastian found himself much more focused than he had in days. Everything was back to as it should be. He woke the servants promptly, averted several small disasters, and still managed to arrive precisely on time at the young master’s door, with a superb breakfast of eggy in a basket, bacon, strawberry banana parfait, and of course Earl Grey tea.   
Opening the door to his master‘s bedroom, he found most of the blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor. It was not an uncommon occurrence for the Earl to be kidnapped. Being the queen’s guard dog it merely came with the job title. However, when Sebastian caught a glimpse of the black feather peeking out from one of the pillowcases on the floor his eyes flashed pink for a brief moment. _How dare these idiots be so careless?_  
Sebastian walked over, placing the feather back in it’s rightful place. He held the pillow in his hands for a moment, before replacing it gingerly on the bed. His heart clenched, his hands doing the same. _Such audacity to lay their filthy hands on my Ciel. I shall take great pleasure in ripping those hands from your limbs and watching you writhe like the worthless worms you are._ He bounded to the door, leaving his silver serving cart forsaken, and bolted down the stairs.   
Sebastian had barely reached the bottom of the staircase when Mey-Rin crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground. Mey-Rin’s face flushed a brilliant shade of red, having landed on top of Sebastian. She quickly scurried to her feet once more.   
“Oh, Mr. Sebastian, sir! I’m sorry, I am! It’s just I found this letter addressed to the Phantomhive manor, I did!”   
Sebastian stood quickly before reaching out his hand, “Mey-Rin, the letter please?”   
He read through the letter quickly, deciding that the only thing worse than horrible grammatical errors was the atrocious spelling. A hefty ransom, or his master’s life. It was not as if this were not a common threat of most ransom letters, but his heart wrenched horribly at the thought of this second horrifying option. _Damn this accursed heart._  
As Bard and Finnian came out of the kitchen, Bard asked, “What’s going on, Sebastian?”  
“Did something happen to the young master?” Finnian said, his eyes full of concern.   
Mey-Rin was nearly hysterical as she burst out, “The young master’s been kidnapped again, he has!”   
“Everyone, please, calm down. I will take care of this matter. You lot, clean this place up. The young master’s room has been disheveled, and his breakfast will need to be disposed of. It would be a great travesty indeed should the master be forced to eat cold eggs.”   
“I’ll clean the room right away I will!” Mey-Rin said, with a salute.  
“I’ll throw the breakfast away!” Finnian volunteered.   
“Can we eat it?” Bard asked, “No use throwing out good food, right?”   
“Just make sure the manor is spotless for the young master’s return. Begin preparations for lunch. I am certain the young lord will be quite hungry.”   
“Right away, Mr. Sebastian!”  
“It’ll be a feast alright!”   
“I’ve got some new flowers I’ll plant!”   
Sebastian felt his master’s call, and knew if he took the glove off of his hand just now that the contract seal would be glowing. He was being summoned. Ciel was indeed alive still and his heart rate slowed down considerably. He smiled.   
“Oh, and as always be on your guard. The Phantomhive manor will not be entertaining guests today, for any reason. I trust you three to it.”   
“Sir, yes, sir!”   
Sebastian headed out the door in pursuit of the rendezvous location. The letter had mentioned an address in the heart of Bristol, most likely some abandoned summer home. A human would take two hours or more to get there. Luckily, he wasn’t human, but it would still take time…time he couldn’t afford. His heart wrenched horribly again. _This heart is a terribly bothersome thing._

*****

When Ciel spoke, his irritation was evident in his voice. The contract glowed an eerie iridescent shade of purple.  
“Sebastian, come get me now.”   
Both men exchanged nervous glances for a moment as if this were the magic word to bring about the wrath of The Curse. After a few moments of complete silence the room filled with laughter.   
“Sebastian?” Bruno laughed, “That the name of your little lap dog? Your teddy bear maybe?”  
Roland grabbed Ciel up by the hair. “Looks like you are all bark, little guard dog. No bite, no curse, no weapons. You’re nothing. Nothing but a spoiled fucking brat. Soon to be a dead fucking brat.” He smiled.   
“It’s clear why your sitting here doing the dirty work and waiting for your boss, rather than running the cartel yourself. You lack the mental capacity. Do you know why there are no stories about what happens when you cross the queen’s guard dog? Because dead men tell no tales, and I’d wager that you’ll be dead before your boss even gets here, or else soon after. You like to gamble, Roland. Care to put money on it?”   
The door opened and Ciel smiled, “It’s about time. His breath is awful.”   
The tapping sound of shoes on hardwood floors was not Sebastian’s, but a pair of expensive Italian loafers, followed by a pristine red suit, black silk dress shirt, and red tie. The man had black hair, slicked back, dark brown eyes, and far too many gaudy rings on his fingers. He laughed, making Roland jump back.   
“Cheeky little bastardo, no wonder you had to rough him up a bit,” he saw the contract seal and cringed, “Creepy little bastardo is more like it. You do this to him?”   
“No, we’ve been taking care of him just like you said Giovanni,” Roland replied, “Ain’t we Bruno?”   
Bruno nodded, lighting up another cigar.   
Giovanni jerked Ciel’s face to showcase the cigar burn on his cheek. “Then what the hell is this?”   
Before Bruno could react, Giovanni pulled out a revolver and unloaded a full round in the man’s chest. He fell to the floor, the cigar falling from his lips and rolling across the floor. Roland stepped on the cigar putting out its ash.   
“You know Bruno and his fucking cigars, Gio. Fucker was damn careless.”   
The man was still choking on his own blood when Giovanni spoke.   
“Have the boys drag him out of here.”   
Giovanni yanked Ciel up by the belts and sat him down in the chair Bruno had been sitting in, playing cards earlier. Giovanni sat down in Roland’s seat.   
“So you are the policeman of England’s underworld? The villainous noble? The aristocrat of evil? The queen’s guard dog? The Earl Ciel Phantomhive? Just how many nicknames do you have? Doing the dirty work of your precious queen, as if you are any better than the rest of us. You have just as much blood on your hands, little pup.”   
The mob bosses speech was as cliché as his brainless lackeys. He could almost quote it verbatim, having heard it from countless others since inheriting such titles. The words didn't intimidate him, nor did they make the smile fade from his lips.   
A couple men came in and dragged Bruno’s cold body out.   
“And none of these facts phase you? Must be a lot of money involved. But, what good could money be to a dead man, I wonder?” Ciel found himself growing more irritated by the minute. _That demon better be thinking of a suitable compensation, in the form of chocolate cake, and maybe even a batch of cookies with my tea. What use is that pocket watch if he doesn't check it? Or his master?_  
“Oh I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, Phantomhive. Right now, my men are going to your estate to get my ransom, one way or another. Well, actually, there’s really only the one way. I’ve ordered my men to kill your fucking servants and clean out your estate, before they burn the place to the foundation, and piss on the goddamn ashes. No one fucks with Giovanni Costa! Least of all some snot nosed, stuck up little fuck like you.”   
Ciel laughed.   
“Do you think I’m kidding? Do I look like a fucking joke to you?”  
“You’re absolutely ridiculous!” Ciel laughed, “My servants? You honestly think you can kill my servants? You must be joking. You honestly think you can kill my servants, burn my estate, and steal from me? If it were that simple then it would have been done by now.”   
A cold pit formed in Ciel’s stomach, remembering that it had been done before. The night they had stolen his parents from him. The night they had stolen his innocence. His features remained humorous as he continued, “No. They are Phantomhive servants. They will defend me, my pride, and my estate with their very lives. Your men will all be dead, and it’s only a matter of time before they come here to find me. Then you and the rest of your pathetic degenerates will be erased as well. Clearly, you’re the one who doesn’t know who you are dealing with.”   
“No one talks to Giovanni like that!” Roland spat.   
“I don’t like your fucking attitude,” Giovanni said, backhanding Ciel with the revolver still in hand, a sizable bruise beginning to form already on his delicate cheek bone. “Do you know who the fuck I am? I don’t take kindly to threats, Phantomhive.”  
He grabbed a handful of Ciel’s hair, pressing the barrel of the revolver to his temple.   
“Go ahead then, pup. Give us a bark.”   
The door opened and one of the men who had dragged Bruno out reappeared.   
“Gio, someone’s here to see you.”  
“Does this look like a fucking good time, Niko? Tell them to piss off.”   
“He says he’s here for the kid.”   
Giovanni smirked, “Well it looks like my ransom’s here. Lucky for you little pup. Come on. On your feet. Let‘s get this over with.”  
He yanked Ciel up by the belts and led him out into the hallway. They were on the loft of the second floor, looking over the railing at a large dining room. On the ground floor and the loft combined, Giovanni had nearly fifty men, none of which would stand a chance against the one man standing in the entryway. The man stopped checking his pocket watch and replaced it in the pocket of his tailcoat.   
“Woof,“ Ciel said.   
The butler smiled.   
“Ah, master…” 

*****

“This is the place. Gio said leave no one alive and burn the place to the ground,” one man said.   
“Pretty big place. Looks like a pretty good heist. A big fat cut for each of us,” another said.   
“Not with you lot standing around with your dick in your hand. We’ve got a job to do. Make it quick. Lots to be done.”   
They had known it had been a sizable mansion; therefore, Giovanni had sent nearly fifty of his top men. They carried machine guns, closing in around the perimeter of the house. They knocked on the front door. Tanaka greeted them with a smile.   
“I’m terribly sorry, but the Phantomhive manor is not entertaining guests today. Do come back another day, won’t you?”   
“Listen old man, we’re not going anywhere until we get what we came for,” a man spat, shoving his gun at Tanaka, “Take us to the safe and maybe we’ll let you live.”   
“Ho, ho, ho,” Tanaka laughed. He unsheathed his samurai sword and decapitated the man, a spray of blood hitting the elder butler’s face.   
Before a gun could be fired, the men scurried to either side. A large statue seemingly fell from the sky, splattering two men that didn’t move fast enough.   
“Sorry,” Finny said sweetly, with a smile, “But Mr. Sebastian has said no company today, and my master would not be very happy if you were here unannounced.”   
He uprooted a thick oak tree and swung it like a bat, knocking five men to the ground. They didn’t have a chance to get to their feet before bullets rained down on them from the roof.   
“Obeying my master’s orders, keeping the house proper while he is away. That’s what makes a Phantomhive maid,” Mey-Rin said, her glasses off, a much more focused stare replacing her normal smile. She held a handgun in each hand, emptying both barrels on the intruders before switching to a rifle.   
“How many of them are there?” one man asked.  
“Who the fuck are these people?” another asked.  
“Let’s get out of here!” a third shouted.  
“NO!” one of the higher ranking men snapped. He looked around. An old butler, some young blonde guy in a stupid hat, and as far as he could see one shooter on the roof, a woman at that. They just had the element of surprise, that was all. They could take these people, kill them easily, and finish the job. “We stay! Finish the damn job!”   
“I’m afraid that won’t do at all,” Tanaka said simply, pulling out a second shorter samurai sword. He drove both blades into one of the men trying to make a run for it, pulling them out, and moving to a second target with surprising speed for the butler’s age.   
“Not at all,” Finny agreed, picking a man up and throwing him into the air higher than the rooftop, “The young master wouldn’t like that.”   
The man flailed wildly before crashing into the ground, his neck making a sickening cracking sound, as Finny picked up another man.   
The men fired their machine guns. Tanaka stood behind one of the statues, while Finny used another as a shield, charging at the men before throwing the statue at the intruders. On the rooftop Mey-Rin tossed down the rifle and picked up two machine guns.   
“Time to take out the trash. My master, won’t like this filth around at all.”  
The other half of the men had gone around back, trying to enter through the back door, and surround the mansion. No one was to get out alive. Dead, down to the fucking dog if the brat had one. That was Giovanni’s orders.   
“Looks like they’re giving them hell. Fucking bastards won’t stand a chance,” a man smirked.  
“Waste of lead if you ask me,” another chimed in, “Overkill.”  
“They could have at least waited for us,” the first man said, almost sounding disappointed, “Save us a bit of action. How come they get to have all the fun?”  
“Fun, eh? Oh you boys will have plenty of fun, just don’t you worry.”  
“Who’s there?” the first guy demanded.   
Bard leaned against the back door, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He smiled. “Hey, now I just came out back for a smoke is all. But I gotta tell ya, you lot shouldn’t be here. Sebastian’s orders and all. Scary fellow. Sometimes I think I’m scared of ‘im more than the master.”  
“We don’t give a fuck about you or your master. We already have the little shit. Now take us to the safe or we’ll kill you where you stand.”  
“I think it’s you lot who should be worried where you're standin',” Bard said, striking a match against the bottom of his boot, lighting the cigarette and taking a few puffs.   
“Crazy chef thinks he’s funny does he? This is the last chance. Where is the safe?”  
“I am a crazy chef,” Bard laughed, “A Phantomhive chef. Protect the young master. Protect the manor. No matter what the cost. That’s what makes a Phantomhive servant.”  
Bard flicked the cigarette at the man’s feet and the ground exploded, sending the dozen or so men up in the air. As they landed, some had caught fire, others had broken bones. Bard pulled out his machine gun.   
“Aye, I told you, you would have fun. Now the real party begins.” 

*****

Finding the summer home was easy enough. A human would have been exhausted or at the very least out of breath from running such a great distance. Sebastian, however was merely agitated it had taken so long. He easily snuck past the dozen or so men guarding the perimeter and walked up the stairs, knocking on the door. The men outside turned around and joined the group of men inside in aiming their guns at the butler.   
“Who the hell are you?” the man at the door demanded.   
“Pardon me,” Sebastian said kindly, “I am a servant of the house of Phantomhive. I have come to collect my master.”  
“You bring the ransom?” another man asked, looking far too trigger happy.   
“I would feel more comfortable discussing that matter with this Mr. Costa, rather than small minded underlings such as yourself. If you would be so kind as to take me to my master, I would very much like to make sure he is alive before discussing payment for his well being.”   
“Go get Gio,” the man at the door barked, before shoving his gun into Sebastian’s chest, “Get inside.”  
Sebastian stepped in, the large door closing behind him. Yes, this was indeed a summer home. A thick layer of dust coated most of the house’s surfaces, except those brushed away by the current squatters. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and chandelier. A strong musk smell filled the air from the house not being properly aired out from its long stint of vacancy. Such improper conditions for his master to have to endure. He checked his pocket watch. Oh my, my young master must be starving by now.   
A man in a red suit appeared at the balcony, yanking Ciel along with him. His master was bound by several belts, a cigar burn on his cheek, a large bruise on the other, and he still hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet. A grave travesty indeed. His heart warmed to see him alive. That was all that mattered. They might have been able to dispose of him before he had the chance to make it here, but now…now they faced a demon’s anger. There would be no hope of escaping from his wrath.   
“Ah, master, it doesn’t appear they’ve taken very good care of you. Have they?”  
“What you expect? Bloody tea and crumpets?” Giovanni laughed, “ Lucky I haven’t scarred his pretty face up more.”  
“Pardon me, I was addressing my master,” Sebastian said with a smile that had a much more sadistic look about it.   
Ciel hated the butterflies that appeared in his stomach at the sight of his butler. It had been irritating enough to have smoke filling his lungs, listening to less than stimulating conversation, and watching the worst poker game he'd ever seen. It wasn't that his faith in his butler wasn't there; but, rather, that he hated when Sebastian let the games go this far. His butler was a capable man, but Sebastian had told him before that even demons weren't invincible. This knowledge festered with insecurities and burrowed its way into his mind from time to time, filling his head with troubling thoughts. Thoughts about Sebastian’s well being and worrying if he was still alive and worse yet, caring about the answers to such questions. Such childish things had no hold in the underworld, nor could they in his heart. Besides, if Sebastian ever died, then there would be no more contract, and shouldn’t that truth alone make him happy?  
“You took long enough,” Ciel said.  
“My sincerest apologies, my lord. I did come as fast as I could,” Sebastian replied.   
“Well? What are you waiting for? I grew tired of this game quite some time ago. I’m starving. I want chocolate with my tea.”   
“Yes, but if I come any closer he might kill you,” Sebastian smiled.  
“Are you saying you want to break the contract?” Ciel asked.   
“No, of course not. Nothing has changed. I remain your faithful servant, my lord,” the butler answered.  
“Give me the fucking money,” Giovanni demanded, ramming the barrel of his gun into Ciel’s temple, “Now. Or the little prick dies right here, before your eyes.”  
Sebastian’s eyes flashed their demonic shade of pink. When he spoke, he addressed his master, rather than the man with the gun.   
“You know what you have to do, young master,” Sebastian said, “I do believe I taught you how to beg properly.”   
Ciel's eye narrowed to a glare. _How dare he insult me, now? Beg._ Ciel wasn't so foolish to think that Sebastian would waste his dinner on such trivial games, but, at the same time, being bruised and beaten before his first cup of tea didn't help the foul mood he was in. _Beg. Sebastian will be the one begging when we get home, until then..._  
The seal binding them glowed iridescent purple on his eye, “This is an order. Save me now.”   
Sebastian smiled, his eyes still pink, and pulled out two handfuls of cutlery from inside his tailcoat, “Yes, my lord.”   
“The butler brings a fucking knife to a gun fight?” Giovanni laughed, “And a dull one at that. Are you fucking stupid? What do you think you can do against all of my men?”  
Sebastian laughed softly, “It's not the weapon, Mr. Costa, it's all about technique.”  
He threw the knives in his hands with precise aim, taking out eight men closest to him, their bodies falling to the floor with knives stuck in the center of their foreheads. The smile faded from Giovanni’s face. Ciel chuckled to himself. The Curse of Phantomhive had finally come to exact vengeance.   
“KILL HIM!” Giovanni demanded.  
Nearly forty machine guns and handguns began firing simultaneously at Sebastian. A look of shock came over the butler’s face before he fell backwards to the floor. Hundreds of holes littered the once fine tailcoat of the pristine Phantomhive uniform. Sebastian’s blood pooled beneath him, soaking the floorboards of the summer home.  
Ciel’s heart jolted in his chest, pounding uncomfortably. It was unsettling, seeing so much of his butler’s blood, his body so rigid. Seconds passed, and the blood only managed to pool farther, not stopping. Ciel tasted bile in his throat. He knew it was just a game, that Sebastian delighted in toying with simple humans before obliterating their insignificant lives, but he always wondered what was the limit of the demon’s powers, if he were not invincible as he had said.   
His pride waited as long as it could before he opened his mouth, somehow managing to sound heartless, whilst his heart threatened to beat out of his chest, “Alright, I’m tired of playing games. How long are you planning on playing dead?”  
“Not long,” Sebastian said, still lying on the floor. Ciel felt his heart ease as the rest of the men in the room went on edge, backing away, pointing guns with shaking hands, many asking the infamous question, _how_?  
Sebastian began to rise to his feet so unnaturally that any thought that he were still human quickly dissipated.   
“Guns today are so much more efficient than they used to be. They can shoot so many more bullets now.”  
As Sebastian finally straightened upright, he spit an entire handful of bullets into his gloved palm.  
“Perhaps you’d like these back?” he asked, with a sadistic smile, before jumping into the air, throwing the bullets, and another dozen bodies falling to the ground, adding more blood to the nearly overflowing dining room floor.   
Giovanni yanked Ciel back, flanked by a few of his men and headed towards the back exit. The rest of the men began firing rounds at the demon. Sebastian grabbed a circular tray off of the table, using it as a shield, as he ran down to the end. He jumped into the air, throwing the tray and decapitating not one, but two men. His hands wrapped around the chandelier, swinging his legs up, so that he hung upside down, continuing to throw cutlery with lethal accuracy.  
Slowly the room began to grow more and more quiet, as less and less rounds of ammunition filled the air. Blood saturated the floor of the summer home, splattering the walls. Sebastian crossed his arms, still hanging from the chandelier. He heard the satisfying click, signifying no more bullets, of the final man’s gun and could even hear the man’s heart beating faster as his hand shook around the empty pistol.   
Sebastian dropped to the floor, his shoes making a sickening, splashing sound with the amount of blood. He walked over to the last man, cowering behind a once gorgeous grand piano, now littered with bullet holes. Sebastian pulled off his tailcoat.   
“This was once a perfectly good tailcoat. Now just look at it. I suppose I should have you to thank for its current condition. How improper I look without it. My master will not be pleased,” when he spoke, he revealed pointed teeth, his pink eyes almost glowing.  
“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want! Don’t kill me!” the man pleaded, “I…I was just following orders.”  
“What a coincidence,” Sebastian smiled, “I, too, have orders. Unfortunately for you, I have the power to actually fulfill mine.” 

*****

“Faster!” Giovanni yelled at the man driving the car. He sat in the backseat with Ciel beside him, one of his men on the other side and one up front. His gun still pressed firmly into Ciel’s temple.   
“What the fuck was that Gio?” Roland asked, a bit shaken on the other side of Ciel.   
“Hell if I know,” Giovanni snapped, “Who the hell was that, watchdog?”   
“The Curse is what it was…,” Roland muttered, under his breath.   
“Yes,” Ciel said, snidely, “It _is_ The Curse.”  
“He’s not human!” the man next to the driver said, his voice trembling, “What the hell was he? He killed them, killed them all! And he‘s coming for us too!”  
“We should just dump the kid,” the driver suggested, “Maybe he’ll let us go.”   
“No, we go along with the plan,” Giovanni insisted.   
“Besides, the little prick will probably just sick his fucking dog on us anyways,” Roland spat.   
“I’ve already issued my orders. He’ll do anything to protect me, even with his very life. But I have to say, this time, I think you just pissed him off. So, you see, I’m rather intrigued to see how he’ll end the lot of you. Decapitation? Dismemberment? Disembowelment? So many decisions…”   
“Not if you’re fucking dead!” the man up front screamed, turning his gun on Ciel.   
“NO ANTHONY!” Giovanni yelled, “WE GO WITH THE PLAN!”  
“I ain’t dying for this little bastard! Sorry Gio.”  
Sebastian appeared in front of the car without warning. Instead of stopping, the driver floored it. The car connected with the demon with a sickening groan as the metal crumpled with the force of impact, the engine smoking terribly. Sebastian smiled, climbing on top of the hood and kneeling.   
“As I said, I would very much like to have my master back now. First my tailcoat, now trying to run me over. This is a poor way to conduct business, and terrible manners at best. You see, I am not a very patient man. Well…”   
His eyes glowed pink, revealing his pointed teeth in a twisted smile, as if calling himself a man were a laughable notion.   
The four men fired their guns at Sebastian, who looked less than amused. He caught a handful of bullets midair, throwing them at the driver who slumped forward on the steering wheel. Sebastian waited for the satisfying sound of desperate fingers pulling triggers on empty barrels. With his weapon emptied, Roland bolted from the car and ran off towards the woods.   
Sebastian stood up on top of the hood and lifted Anthony up over the windshield with one hand. He broke the man’s neck, discarding the body on the hood. He jumped off the hood and stepped towards Giovanni.   
“Work for me,” Giovanni said, surprisingly calm for the current circumstances, “Be my bodyguard and I will pay you ten fold what he gives you. No, twenty times what he pays you, and you can have all the liquor and women you want too.”   
“I’m sorry Mr. Costa. It’s an attractive offer, but I have no interest in such materialistic things. You see, I’m simply one hell of a butler. As long as my master holds the contract, I am his loyal servant. A wish, a sacrifice, and this,” Sebastian took off one of his blood soaked gloves with his teeth, revealing the contract seal, glowing an iridescent purple, “All of these things keep me bound to Lord Phantomhive, until the day I swallow his soul. And that is a price you could never afford.”  
“Why not have mine? My soul? Abandon the child and come work for me,”  
“Your soul?” Sebastian laughed, coldly, revealing pointed teeth, “Your soul is a cesspool of filth and greed, whereas my master’s soul remains beautifully pure while still peppered with an unquenchable blood lust. It would be like trading the most succulent perfectly seasoned rack of lamb for a poorly crafted grisly minced meat pie. Even with all of your money, I am afraid that some men can not be so easily bought.”   
“But you are not a man. I know what you are, demon.”   
Sebastian’s eyes glowed again and black feathers began to rain down around him. “Yes, I am a demon. Here. I should be giving this back to you.”   
The demon spit another bullet into his hand, before placing it in Giovanni’s palm. The bullet pierced the skin and began to agonizingly make its way up the man’s arm, working slowly towards his heart. Sebastian walked around the back of the car until he reached the passenger’s side where Ciel sat. The feathers had stopped raining down, his teeth had returned to his normal Cheshire grin, and his eyes had returned to red. He opened the door and bowed.   
“My apologies, young master, these events took a bit longer than I had expected. My, don’t you just look so helpless all bound up like that. You play the part of the victim so flawlessly, one would almost be convinced by it.”  
“Untie me at once, Sebastian,” Ciel demanded.   
“But master, you look rather cute like that. I think I should just keep you like that until we return home,” Sebastian smiled.   
“It wasn't a request,” the Earl of Phantomhive said, his voice full of disdain as he glared at his butler.  
“Very well then, my lord,” Sebastian replied, as he began to rip the belts in half.   
Normally Ciel would have been extremely embarrassed caught outside in his nightshirt, but he quickly regained his poise and grabbed the gun of the driver before pointing it at Giovanni‘s head.   
“Unfortunately for you, this game is over,” Ciel said. with a smile, “What a boring end to your pathetic existence.”   
As the gun’s empty chamber gave a click, Giovanni smiled. “I might be dead, but there’s still time to take you to hell with me, Phantomhive.”   
Giovanni pulled out a knife and managed to get mere inches from Ciel’s face before Sebastian launched at him. Black feathers rained down once more, before he grabbed the knife from the man and began stabbing him repeatedly, blood spraying everywhere and combining with the feathers like some sort of macabre storm.   
“If anyone is taking him to hell, it will be me,” Sebastian growled.   
Ciel's eyes widened in surprise at the attack, as his hand raised in the air and caught a feather, as though it were simple rain. Blood splashed his bare legs, and his nightshirt, but still he stood in silence, his heart nearly stopping as the softness of the feather entranced him. It wasn't until the pool of blood touched his toes, that he cringed in disgust, dropping the feather and regretting the action almost immediately as it became sticky with crimson.   
“That's enough, Sebastian,” Ciel spoke softly.  
Sebastian stopped mid-strike, his arm still raised in the air. Unaware of his slightly demonic appearance, Sebastian turned to face his master.   
“Oh dear, young master, just look at your nightshirt. How careless of me. My most sincerest apologies, my lord.”   
Ciel's eyes widened, seeing Sebastian in such a state. He'd dreamed it before- wrapped in feathers...but, without the razor sharp teeth, the eyes of the devil. As if he were in one of his dreams he stepped forward, into the blood, without even thinking, and rest his hand against the butler's cheek, still damp with blood.   
“Master…I…,” Sebastian couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t think over the pounding in his heart, the way the damned thing kept clenching tightly at such a soft embrace, wanting to pull him closer to him. He leaned into his master’s hand.   
Ciel felt a chill run up his spine at Sebastian's voice...his stomach churning. His mind was fuzzy, and no comment to deter his actions, nothing he could or wanted to say to cease this moment. Couldn't he have it for himself? His fingertips gently traced Sebastian's cheek where blood still dripped. He felt so human, his skin soft and warm...just as he'd dreamed it would be.  
His teeth lost their point and his eyes returned to red. Somehow it was difficult to make the feathers stop, perhaps because he knew his lord liked them so well, seeking comfort in them. He wanted to be his comfort, to wrap him in his arms. His heart clenched again with the very thought. He placed a hand on his master’s cheek.   
“Ciel…I…”   
Ciel’s heart stopped. His name. Ciel had never thought much of his name until that moment. The nights he had spent begging silently to hear the demon say his name had come to fruition...such perfection on his lips. Ciel. _Ciel._ _**CIEL**_.  
His pride sank in, scolding himself for such idiotic emotions and angry that his butler dare address him so informally. He harshly drew his hand away.   
“Back to the manor, then,” he said, as though the last few moments had never happened. Through the sternness, his heart shattered.  
Any warmth or passion Sebastian had felt quickly faded. A moment’s bliss gone too quickly, leaving him feeling cold, more distant than ever from his master. This time when his heart clenched, it felt like it fractured right down the middle. What a foolish notion to think that his lord…no matter. Business as usual.   
“Certainly my lord, it will be noon by the time we get back and you have yet to have a decent breakfast. Let us be off.”  
Any warmth or passion Sebastian had felt quickly faded. A moment’s bliss gone too quickly, leaving him feeling cold, more distant than ever from his master. This time when his heart clenched, it felt like it fractured right down the middle. What a foolish notion to think that his lord…No matter; business as usual. The feathers ceased abruptly, falling to the ground in defeat, as Sebastian’s heart sank lower still.  
Sebastian scooped Ciel up into his arms and began to make their way back to the manor. Resting against his butler's chest, a little more tired than he cared to admit, he heard the faint beating of Sebastian's heart. It made him feel...angry. He felt angry that Sebastian could do this - be the devil in any way he pleased, making his heart beat as if he truly had one...speaking words that made his own heart dance within his chest, his stomach flutter. But still, he was so warm…comforting. The Earl Phantomhive found himself unable to keep from succumbing to sleep within the arms of his protector, and one day, his murderer.   
A man stepped out from the woods and approached the blood soaked car. His fingers ran over the frame of the door until he reached Giovanni. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked the blood off with a smile.   
“Giovanni Costa, what an utter disappointment.”  
He picked up Sebastian’s bloodied glove and smelled it.   
“This however is intriguing, perturbing even. Sebastian Michaelis and a little human. Perturbing indeed. You may yet have proved yourself useful in death, Giovanni Costa.”   
He struck a match and threw it at the engine, smiling as the car erupted in flames, before receding back into the woods. 

*****

With Ciel fast asleep in his arms, Sebastian couldn’t help but hold him tighter. _Why? Why would he embrace me so tenderly only to turn away from me so coldly when I returned his warmth? Why would he keep that damned feather? Surely he had wanted…? Has he not been plagued with the same thoughts as I have, of something more between us…more than just a contract? Why…?_  
Sebastian couldn’t keep his mind from racing any more than he could keep his heart from shattering, each tiny fragment stabbing him repeatedly. As they approached the manor, Sebastian set Ciel down in a clearing. He returned shortly, wearing another pristine Phantomhive uniform. He shook him gently.   
“My lord, it is time to wake up.”  
Ciel woke in a field, the scent of flowers and cut grass filling his nostrils. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't in a dream. “Sebastian?”  
Sebastian held out a crisp, clean nightshirt for his lord.   
“I’m here, my lord. I’m afraid you dozed off for awhile there. I assumed it would be best for you to change your attire unless we wanted to alarm the rest of the household.”  
Ciel looked blankly at Sebastian, his heart still warm and fluttering, and his mind still objecting, he looked even more bitter than usual when he said, “So you presume to make me change into my night clothes in the middle of the day?”  
“Well, you were kidnapped in the middle of the night, so it would be a bit suspicious if you came home fully dressed in your own clothes, now wouldn’t it? This area is perfectly secluded my lord. No one will see you. Let’s get you out of these blood soaked clothes.”   
Sebastian began undoing the buttons of the nightshirt.   
“Don't be ridiculous,” Ciel said, his cheeks slowly changing varying shades of crimson by the second, “I...” he looked around, “I am not getting dressed in the WOODS.”  
_Was this because of that brief instant earlier? Is that why he recoils from my touch?_  
"Well then....I daresay you'll cause quite the commotion at the manor. I would say that you are the one being quite ridiculous about the matter.”  
“And I suppose a clean nightshirt will also conceal the blood on my person?”  
“You were kidnapped my lord. A few wounds are to be expected, the staff are not complete imbeciles, however showing up looking as if you were murdered or that you yourself may have committed a murder than the staff might needlessly be put on high alarm. Honestly, my lord, it’s just a shirt. Besides it’s not as if anyone will see your undergarments, so you can just leave those intact until I can get you inside and draw you a nice hot bath. It’s a simple matter really, I don’t know why you feel like making such a fuss over such a childish fear as public nudity.”  
“I don't have all day, Sebastian,” Ciel said, in defeat.  
The butler took his time, buttoning each button precisely, his gloves careful to caress the soft skin beneath the buttons ever so slightly, yet purposefully. Even if his master’s sweet lips said one thing, he knew his heart and body were really wanting something else entirely. A concealed feather and a moment’s embrace told him otherwise. Flashes of more tender moments entered Sebastian’s mind. Warm skin. Soft kisses. A small moan. _Sebastian, stay with me. I need you._  
Ciel's body went more rigid at every touch of glove against his skin, his body growing hot, and still he shivered, his heart screaming for more. He didn't want accidental touches. He wanted the gloves off, fingers caressing his skin...no more pretense of 'demon' and 'lord'. He wondered if Sebastian's hands were as soft as his cheek. He was growing to detest the gloves more with each second. His gaze was on the grass, trying desperately not to look at Sebastian, not so much as a glance. His lips quivered, holding back a thousand words, all of which the Earl was too afraid, and too proud to utter. He hoped revenge would come soon, and Sebastian would take his soul. Games were never as fun when you actually had something to lose. Detachment was something Ciel was good at and finding himself infatuated with his demon was by far too dangerous a move.  
“There now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Sebastian said with a smile, concealing the bloodied shirt inside of his tailcoat. “Let us get you home, a hot meal, and an even hotter bath shall we?”  
Sebastian picked Ciel up in his arms once more. As they approached the manor, Finnian and Mey-Rin ran out to meet them.  
“Master, welcome home, sir,” Finnian said, cheerfully.  
“Oh dear,” Mey-Rin added.  
“Master Ciel you’re injured,” Finnian noted.  
“I just tripped and fell. It‘s nothing to worry about,” Ciel said, calmly with a smirk , “It’s nothing to worry about. What? You don’t believe what your master tells you?”  
“Oh no, we do,” Mey-Rin said.   
“It’s just…you look so cute, being held like a baby and all,” Finnian added.   
“Put. Me. Down. Sebastian.” Ciel said, trying not to blush and failing. That damn demon was done evoking this reaction for the day. There was going to be lunch, tea, and paperwork. Lots of paperwork. No interruptions...particularly by...him. “What are you staring at? Stop...smiling...idiots.”  
“I trust we had no visitors?” Sebastian asked the other two servants.  
Mey-Rin and Finnian straightened up, saluting, “The Phantomhive manor is not entertaining guests today.”  
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Bard said, lighting up a cigarette as he joined the group.  
“Ho, ho, ho,” Tanaka said, sipping a green tea.  
Wanting to put as much distance between him and Sebastian as possible, Ciel walked barefoot into the manor with as much class as he could muster, tripping on the steps and regaining his poise immediately. “SEBASTIAN! MY TEA, NOW!”  
“I trust that you took care of the clean up?” Sebastian asked the servants.  
“’Course!” Bard answered, with a smile, “No one does a clean up job like a Phantomhive servant!”   
“Can’t have young master coming home to a dirty house, oh no we can’t, sir,” Mey-Rin added.   
“It’s all taken care of, Mr. Sebastian!” Finnian beamed.   
“Very good. Except that there is still blood on all of your uniforms. Go clean yourselves up at once. Afterward, Finnian spray the blood off the yard, Mey-Rin wipe the windows down, and Bard…do something about all that charcoaled debris in the back yard. Honestly, there’s more to clean up then just burying bodies. I expect better from you three.”   
Sebastian began to walk back towards the manor when he turned to address them once more, “Oh, and I will be making an extra apple raisin pie with the young master’s lunch. Do help yourselves.”  
“Did you hear that?” Bard said, excitedly, “We get to eat it!”   
Sebastian continued walking to the manor and began preparing lunch. Working exceptionally fast, he brought the silver serving cart upstairs to his young master’s office. Ciel sat behind his desk pouring over paperwork. He was now dressed, but poorly. His buttons were misaligned and his bow was not tied properly. His hair still a bit ruffled.   
“For today’s lunch I’ve prepared fish and chips accompanied with an apple raisin pie and a cup of Earl Grey tea. Oh and I believe you requested chocolate as well, so I took the liberty of making you an additional dessert,” Sebastian added, setting down the last dish containing a decadent brownie with walnuts, chocolate sauce drizzle, and whipped cream, “It has been quite a trying day for you.”  
“Yes,” Ciel mumbled, his eyes lingering on the brownie. Before he could pick his fork up, Sebastian turned the desk chair around until Ciel faced him.  
“My, you look a sight, my lord,” he continued, “Please, allow me.”   
He began fixing the buttons of Ciel’s shirt. Once more, his gloves intently, but discretely, brushed against the skin of his chest as he had done earlier. He could hear the boy’s heart beating faster. He took the ribbon and retied it perfectly. Sebastian stood, running his fingers through Ciel’s hair, trying to flatten it back down. Ciel looked away from his butler. Sebastian’s heart sank. _Why does he continue to recoil from me, when he so clearly has other desires?_  
Ciel’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t look at his butler. His mouth felt dry, desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat. That smell. The damned smell of lavender, intoxicating him, choking him. The feel of those gloves on his skin was almost more than he could bear. That smile, forever taunting him, as if the demon knew his heart’s darkest desires and was merely toying with him. No doubt exactly the same way everything was a game to him, pushing him to see how far he could take it, even the very guise of a butler as a means to devour his prey.   
_A means to an end, my own end. I’d rather go to Hell right now then to give him any more satisfaction. He’ll have my soul. That was the contract. I’ll be damned if I give him my heart to toy with as well before he grows tired of the game. My heart…or my body._ Flashes of Sebastian invaded his mind. His butler undressed, on top of him, in his four poster bed. The way he said his name, “ _Ciel…I want you._ ”   
“What? What did you say?” Ciel asked, realizing that he had been so distracted with his own thoughts that Sebastian had already pulled the silver serving cart to the door.   
“I said that after your lunch, I shall draw you a bath young master. You still have dried blood on you, and we certainly can’t have that.”  
Ciel couldn’t look at him, instead he kept his eyes on his brownie, picking up his fork and taking a bite. “Fine,” he said, dismissively.   
Sebastian shut the door and Ciel fought to swallow the chocolatey bite. His throat wanted to close, and when it finally hit his stomach the butterflies inside seemed to swarm angrily, threatening to make him throw up. He threw the plate at the closed door angrily, watching the china shatter. _Damn demon, I can’t even enjoy my brownie. Just make these feelings stop. Stop toying with me. I hate you. I hate what you’ve done to me. What you’ve reduced me to. Making me weak. You bastard._  
His pride refused to admit any such weakness, and instead Ciel decided to pour over his paperwork, that he was now very behind on, thanks to those idiotic kidnappers. After a few minutes the butterflies dissipated and his stomach growled loudly in protest. He went for the slice of apple raisin pie first, craving sweets as usual, but he found himself completely dissatisfied. Apple raisin pie was no substitute for brownies, and he wished he hadn’t have acted so rashly with his first one.   
There would be more of course. There was always more. All he had to do was call Sebastian…no. No, he wouldn’t call him back in here. Not for an entire pan of brownies. Besides, bringing the brownie would bring back the butterflies and then he’d be right back to where he had been before. No. No more brownies. No more butterflies.   
After delivering lunch and returning the silver serving cart, Sebastian began making preparations for his Ciel’s bath. His lord's room smelled of chocolate and bergamot, just like him. He began putting the pillows Mey-Rin had organized into their precise order. The maid didn't know that Ciel had to have each of his eleven pillows in the right spot...but he did. And he knew which was Ciel's favorite, the one with his feather safe inside the pillowcase. He held the last pillow in his hands for a long moment, before inhaling deeply. The smell of bergamot and chocolate, the scent of rosewood and vanilla from his shampoo, the scent of fresh crisp linens, and the slight scent of his own feather, all combining into one addictive fragrance. He liked the smell of their scents mingled together and couldn’t help but imagine disheveled sheets, the scents of both of their cum and sweat entangled together. How delightful. He placed the pillow back in it's proper spot, with delicate care.  
He selected the outfit for the day with great deliberation before walking into the master bathroom. He selected a bottle of jasmine oil as well as bubble bath for when the time came. His lord had always had somewhat of a childish fondness for bubbles, though the butler had begun to suspect more recently that it had less and less to do with the bubbles themselves, and rather, the exposure of his perfect porcelain skin. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help but wonder if Ciel had caught his eyes lingering against his every feature on more than one occasion.  
Sebastian returned, silver serving cart in tow, scraping broken china pieces across the carpet upon entering. He noticed a large splash of whipped cream and chocolate drizzle still on the door, closing it with a Cheshire grin.   
“I see brownies are not to your liking today, my lord?”  
“That you dare have the nerve to call that slop food. I have no idea how you managed to make it look appetizing but it tasted like absolute rubbish.” The insults hurt when they came out of his mouth now, and he found no desire in uttering them. His pride reared its head each time, though, and the insults would come, again and again, slipping between his lips so easily.   
“My apologies, young master,” Sebastian said, collecting the empty dishes from the corner of the desk, “I am glad to see that the rest of my slop, as you say, was at least edible. You needed to eat to regain your strength after such an ordeal today.”  
“Yes, well it was…edible, I suppose.”  
Sebastian opened the door and pushed the cart out into the hall.   
“Mey-Rin, please take this downstairs and then clean the mess up in the young master’s study.”  
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sebastian, right away, sir,” Mey-Rin said, blushing a bit before heading down the hall.   
Ciel couldn’t help but feel a mix of anger and jealousy. _Even the damn maid fell all over herself around him. Is there anyone that doesn’t want him?_ On second thought, he didn't want to know the answer.  
“Come now, young master,” Sebastian said with a deep bow, “It’s time for your bath.”

*****

They stepped into the large master bathroom, light blue tiles covering the floor, the walls painted a darker blue with an ornate golden border. The two had stood together in this room countless times, but now everything had changed. It felt like a new situation entirely. Ciel’s pounding heart filled his ears, making it hard to hear anything else.   
Sebastian used his teeth to remove his white gloves and set them on the right side of the counter beside the wash basin. He removed his tailcoat and folded it neatly, before laying it on top of the white gloves. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolled his sleeves up. He went to the pristine porcelain claw foot bathtub and turned the golden faucet on. He poured some jasmine oil into the water along with a bit of bubble bath. It wasn’t always a part of their routine to have bubbles and oil. It was usually after a trying day, such as today.   
“Now then, young master,” Sebastian said, kneeling before him. He removed the eye patch first. The demon loved seeing the eye that held their contract seal. With the eye patch, very few people had ever seen the beauty of this eye, at least very few people that were still alive. It reminded him that, no matter what, if nothing else that this eye’s beauty was for him alone and that through the contract of the seal it bore, his soul also belonged to him. _Nothing can change that. In the end he belongs to me. He is mine._   
Sebastian’s own heart pounded in his chest, hearing how fast Ciel’s heart beat, as if the two were racing to see who could go quicker. He wanted to pull him closer, hold him, feel the soft touch of his hand on his cheek once more. He untied the bow, before unbuttoning the dress shirt, his fingertips brushing greedily against his chest again.   
This time there were no gloves. Skin on skin. The sensation drove Ciel so crazy it was almost unbearable. He kept picturing Sebastian losing all reserve and ripping the shirt off of him, his lips crashing into him, before he took him right here on the bathroom floor, or worse yet…ordering him to do so. He felt a soft sigh escape his lips with the thought, and to his horror, he began to get hard.   
The small sound, resonated in the demon’s ears, making the hair on the back of Sebastian’s neck stand on end. He wanted desperately to know what his master was thinking and hated that with all the power he had such an ability eluded him. _Does he crave this small caress as badly as I do?_ He felt his own hands trembling, slipping over a couple buttons. He was not the only one shaking as he felt his master’s body tremble at his touch. _How peculiar._  
Sebastian pulled the shirt off of Ciel’s shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the left side of the wash basin along with the ribbon. He pulled off the shoes, socks, and garters. He unbuttoned Ciel’s shorts and slid them down along with his undergarments. Ciel was quite hard. As a teenage boy, this wasn’t an unheard of phenomenon, in fact, whenever the situation occurred before, neither of them really noticed. Now, however, there was a want, a longing so deep it ached. Sebastian stood, folding the clothes neatly and laying them on top of the dress shirt. He helped his lord into the tub.   
Ciel eased into the bubbles, leaning his head on the back of the bath. Soaking in the hot water did not put his body at ease. His heart still beat hard against his chest, threatening to expose his pathetic affections. Worst yet, he was still hard, and as soon as Sebastian began to wash him he would know, likely mock him even.   
He glanced over at his butler, waiting silently. That he had the nerve to speak his name. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and part of him hated himself for taking such pleasure in a simple word from his demon’s lips. His name had just been a name before, and said in passing held no effect other than a glance or response. On Sebastian's lips, however, it brought beautiful chaos, igniting fire in his body, and at the same time, chilling him to the bone.  
_Is that his end game? Feign affection for his master, and he would no longer be chained by the bonds of servitude? He would practically have his freedom, the soul he savored, and whatever else he wanted to use me for in the mean time. The demon would become the master, and I would be…his pawn, his victim, nothing more than a sacrificial lamb. No. I will not give in. I am the master. He is the servant. I am the king. He is the black knight. I am Ciel Phantomhive, and he is just a demon. I will not give him his power back. It cost me my soul. I will not give him my heart. It will cost so much more._  
Sebastian stood silently, waiting patiently until he could begin his duties. He could still hear the sound of his master’s heart, mingled with the sounds of the bubbles. Again, he found himself wanting desperately to know what was going on in the mind of his young master. _He wants it as badly as I do. Needs it. To touch, caress, embrace. To feel skin on skin, lips on lips, an insatiable hunger. Yet for some unknown reason he denies himself such pleasures, instead recoiling from me. Why would he deny himself something he so clearly wants. Quite unlike him._  
Sebastian began to wash his master, washing his soft skin until he found him hard beneath the water.   
“Young master, you seem to be having some difficulties. Here, let me assist you.”  
His face turned a bright shade of red, but when Sebastian’s hand wrapped around him, Ciel cried out, “SEBASTIAN!” He pulled his butler by the tie into the bathtub with him. “Sebastian, I need you!”   
“Sebastian, are you listening to me?”   
The butler still stood silently a few feet away from his master soaking in the tub. He tried to cease such seductive thoughts, attempting to clear his mind, as he said, “My apologies, my lord. You were saying?”  
“I asked you why you are so quiet. It’s unlike you.”  
Ciel wanted for everything to go back to the way it was. Usually, Sebastian would have his Cheshire grin on his face, mocking him for how many desserts he had demanded at dinner, talking about the events of the day, or at the very least going over his schedule for the following day. This new silence unnerved him.   
“Again, my apologies, my lord. I hadn’t realized that I had been so quiet. I was thinking of earlier today.”  
Ciel went rigid, his heart deciding to stop entirely so that he might hear better.  
“Young master, I would just like to apologize for my actions earlier.”  
“Why?” Ciel asked, before he could stop himself.   
“I am your butler. It is not acceptable to damage my master’s impression of me. This afternoon, I was careless. You saw a fraction of my true form. It’s unsightly, disgusting, repulsive.”   
_Beautiful, mesmerizing, lovely._ “You were indeed careless,” Ciel agreed, trying to sound cold in reprimand, “If someone had seen you…”  
“Yes, I know. Luckily, we were very fortunate. I assure you. I will not let it happen again.”  
_No, please no. I want to see you. Don’t hide from me._ “That would be for the best,” Ciel forced the words painfully from his throat.   
“Yes, my lord.”  
Sebastian began washing his master’s body, beginning with his feet. He still craved his master, but he would respect his wishes. He would not disobey his orders, even if they were not spoken. He would not break the contract, sacrificing an extraordinary soul for something as simple as carnal pleasures of the flesh.   
“There now,” Sebastian said with a smile, “Perhaps after your bath I shall prepare you another dessert to forgive my incompetence. First this morning’s incident, and then your brownie this afternoon. I fear you may be right in saying that I am not myself today.”  
Sebastian continued washing his lord until he found him hard beneath the water. His heart stopped, hearing the soft moan that left Ciel’s lips. He wrapped the washcloth around him, his hand moving slowly, making sure to be very…thorough.   
Ciel’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Sebastian’s touch was more than he could handle. He tried to fight back the feelings, to hold back. Why was what should take seconds, seeming to take longer? Every touch, every caress, felt prolonged and though he knew he was imagining it to be different, he felt every sensation like he hadn't before. His butler’s hand squeezed tighter around him, and the battle was lost.   
“Sebastian!” Ciel cried out as he came.   
His blush only turned a deeper shade of red, embarrassed that he had came so suddenly and angry at the demon for doing it, no doubt with full intent behind his actions. He was thankful that all evidence of the event lay concealed beneath a layer of bubbles.   
For an instant, Sebastian felt his eyes turn their demonic shade of pink, the scent of his Ciel’s essence consuming him. He closed his eyes quickly, not wanting his master to see that side of him again today.  
_My name. He called out my name as he came, and I felt it. I want to feel it again. I want to kiss him. To tell him that it’s alright. That he needn’t ever be afraid with me._ Realization crept in and Sebastian’s heart sank. _That’s why he recoils from me. Why he refuses to let me get close. Fear, of the bonds of our contract, of the demon who will one day eat his soul. The demon that will one day kill him. How could any human..._  
Ciel hadn’t realized that Sebastian had moved behind him until he felt his breath on his ear, the washcloth gliding across his chest.   
“Yes? My lord?” the butler asked.   
It was hard for Ciel to think of a reply with the demon’s breath on his ear, intoxicating his senses with the smell of him. “Lavender,” Ciel whispered, as Sebastian began washing his arms.   
“What of lavender, my lord?”  
_You smell like it._ “Shampoo. I want lavender shampoo.” _I don’t want to be without that smell. I don’t want to be without you._  
“Young master, we do not have any lavender shampoo. My apologies.”   
“Then find some.”   
“Yes, my lord.”  
As the bathroom door shut, Ciel breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted Sebastian gone as far away as possible. If he couldn’t see him, he would be able to stop thinking about his touch, to force these feelings away. Yet, the minutes it took his butler to reappear were almost unbearable, the seconds passing agonizingly slow. _Bastard. What has he done to me?_  
“Here you are, young master,” Sebastian replied, kneeling beside the claw foot bathtub once more, “I hope this is more to your liking.”   
Sebastian removed the lid and held it out to Ciel. He smelled the bottle, and it smelled exactly like his butler. The scent of lavender. The scent of Sebastian Michaelis. Ciel blushed a bit.   
“It’s fine,” he said, softly.   
“I am glad it is to your liking, my lord.”   
Sebastian poured a handful of shampoo into his hands and began messaging it into his master’s scalp. The smell enveloped Ciel, and he felt his heart flutter. He pictured Sebastian’s wings out again, wrapping around him, making him safe. He leaned into Sebastian’s hands slightly.   
It was over too quickly, and he felt the pitcher of water rinsing away the lavender suds. Sebastian drained the bath water and held out a towel for him. Ciel stepped into the open arms of his demon, and Sebastian wrapped the towel around him, drying him. The butler had the urge to pull him closer, hold him tight, but it was much too soon for that. The last thing he wanted was for his master to recoil from him again.   
He pulled out a new set of clothes, but Ciel shook his head.   
“No, a nightshirt for now. I want a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night because of those damned kidnappers. I couldn’t fall back to sleep without…”   
Ciel’s cheeks flushed again, and Sebastian interjected on his behalf.  
“The comfort of your own bed, my lord?”   
Sebastian smiled. _Without my feather, my lord?_  
_Without you, Sebastian._ “Yes, without my own bed. And as it turns out it is rather difficult to fall asleep bound up in belts.”  
“Yes, I imagine it would be,” Sebastian agreed, as he slid on new undergarments, before beginning to button the buttons of the crisp nightshirt, “But you’re home now, and your bed awaits you. I shall see to it that you are not disturbed this time.”

Ciel climbed into bed and Sebastian pulled the covers up. The butler pulled the thick velvet drapes closed, blocking out daylight completely and leaving the room pitch black save for the candelabra. He had reached the door before Ciel’s soft voice made his heart clench.   
“Sebastian.”  
“Yes, my lord.”  
“I want another one.”  
“Another?”  
“Brownie. The batch this afternoon was fine, I just…”  
“But of course, my lord. I shall return.”  
Sebastian returned carrying a silver tray with a rather sizable brownie, chocolate drizzle, and fresh hand whipped cream on top accompanied by a cup of warm milk with honey. Ciel finished quickly, engulfing the chocolate greedily, as if he had never tasted anything more delicious. Sebastian pulled the covers back up. Ciel rolled over and reached inside his pillowcase, relief washing over him at the feel of the feather in his hand.   
“Sebastian, stay,” Ciel whispered, unable to look at his butler as he made the plea, “Until I fall asleep.”  
“As you wish, my lord. Do you want me to read Poe or Shakespeare perhaps?”  
“No. Just…stay.”  
“Yes, my lord.”   
With the presence of his demon close, wrapped in warm blankets and the scent of lavender, Ciel fell asleep quickly. Sebastian stood waiting for him in the garden, his tailcoat abandoned and his sleeves rolled up as they had been during the bath. Ciel ran to him. Sebastian smiled.  
“Ciel…”  
“Shut up,” Ciel cut him off, wrapping his arms around his butler’s neck and crashing his lips against his, “Kiss me, Sebastian. I need you.”  
Sebastian lips obeyed his master’s commands well, his tongue greeting his eagerly. His fingers ran into Ciel’s hair, holding him tightly against him. Ciel frantically unfastened buttons of Sebastian’s dress shirt, popping off a few buttons in the process. As penalty, Sebastian pinned his master’s hands above his head.   
“How greedy you are, my love.”  
“Always,” Ciel shuddered, “Give me what I want Sebastian.”  
“I do believe I taught you how to beg properly,” he said, with that Cheshire grin, “Do be specific, and tell me exactly what it is you want and I will grant it to you.”  
“You!” Ciel cried out, “Sebastian I need you! Take me right here! Make me yours! Completely yours!”   
“Yes, my love.”

*****

Sebastian entered the servant quarters through the door off the kitchen. He walked past Bard, Finnian, Mey-Rin, and Tanaka’s quarters to the end of the hall, opening the door to his own room.   
The furniture was made of cherry as well as the polished hardwood floors. The walls were painted a rich brown to match the wood. The bed was relatively small, as a demon rarely needed to sleep, with a thick black comforter. Small round nightstands stood on either side of the bed, on top of one laid a very fragile looking copy of _The Aeneid: an Epic Poem by Vergil_. Across from the bed stood a massive fireplace, and above the mantle hung an ancient Roman sword in pristine condition. On one side of the room stood a desk, bookcase, and a door to the closet that was comprised mostly of immaculate Phantomhive uniforms. In the corner between the bookcase and desk, his violin stood displayed on a small round table. The fourth wall had a large armoire beside a long wooden chest and another door that led to a small bathroom. In the center of the room, a black candelabra chandelier hung from the ceiling.   
Sebastian walked into the small bathroom and replaced the bottle of lavender scented shampoo. As he walked out of the bathroom, the chandelier and fireplace blazed into flame on their own accord. He pulled off his tailcoat and hung it over the back of the desk chair. He sat down on the bed, sliding his shoes off. A large black cat with enchanting green eyes crawled out from under the bed and jumped up beside him, meowing.   
“Hello there, old friend,” Sebastian smiled, taking his gloves off and setting the cat on his chest, petting him. “And what have you been up to today, Mr. Salem?”   
The cat meowed in response.   
“Oh really?” Sebastian laughed, “That does sound eventful; however, I think my day has been a bit more…exciting.”   
He sat the cat down beside him and instead took a seat at the desk. The cat followed, jumping up, but staying obediently perched at the corner of the desk. Sebastian took out a piece of paper and began to write the following correspondence:

_It has been a long time since we have spoken last, and longer still since we last saw each other. Not since the Napoleon invasion and the subsequent retreat from the Russian winter of 1812. How easily a dying man will sacrifice his soul for the simplest of pleasures. A gluttonous feast we shared indeed.  
I have much to say, but I would rather meet in person. Send word of a time and place that works best for you. Something terrible is happening. I’m losing control. I am beginning to feel. Please, help me. Sooner the better, before it’s too late. _

Rather than signing the letter, Sebastian made a slice in the palm of his hand, letting a few drops of blood flow down the pen and onto the page. He wrote a single initial in blood: M. Then he folded the letter neatly, finishing with a wax seal. Sebastian held out the letter to the cat, who glared unblinkingly.   
“Well go on then. Take it to him,” Sebastian coaxed.   
The cat continued to glare.   
“Alright then,” Sebastian gave in, opening the bottom drawer of his desk and producing a small crystal bowl. Sebastian waved his hand in front of the dish and fresh milk appeared.   
The cat waited.   
“No? Something more substantial perhaps for the journey ahead.”  
He waved his hands again and a delectable flounder took it’s place.   
The cat still did not move a muscle.   
“My you are stubborn today.”  
He waved his hands again and the flounder was replaced with blue fin tuna.   
The cat’s eyes turned the same color red as Sebastian’s. He began eating, arching his back appreciatively before nestling down on the desk.   
“I suppose I do have you a bit spoiled Mr. Salem. Not unlike certain other individuals.”   
Sebastian changed into a new uniform, a fresh pair of white gloves, and slipped his shoes back on.   
“I can’t very well upset my master’s allergies because of my own indulgences. See to the letter after you finish, Mr. Salem. I had best go start preparing dinner, and perhaps a decadent triple layer chocolate cake, topped with truffles. My Ciel deserves only the best chocolate after such an exasperating day.’


	5. His Butler, Painting the Roses Blue

Ciel was sitting upright in his bed, listening to Sebastian go through his schedule, but found that, as usual, he was more contented with the delicious treats that Sebastian had brought him to ease his crossness in the morning. This morning, as Sebastian had told him, he'd had his favorite- Earl Grey Tea, complimented with a variety of bite-sized cakes, each made to perfection.   
A blueberry cheesecake bite caught his eye as Sebastian asked him, “Young master, are you listening to me at all?”   
“Yes,” Ciel said defensively, “You said to expect company later this evening with a business partner from...Glasgow...” he murmured, between the two bites of the cake. His eyes closed, and his head fell back into the pillow. Sebastian had outdone himself.   
Sebastian chuckled, at his side within moments with that condescending grin on his face.   
“What?” Ciel asked, perturbed that there were just a few inches between their faces.   
“Nothing, my lord, it's just that...” the demon's tongue flicked out, licking from his cheek to his lip. Ciel's face flushed hard, shoving his butler away, his humiliation growing as Sebastian continued to chortle, “It's just that you looked rather...adorable...with cheesecake on your face. I simply couldn't resist.”  
“I...” he shivered, barely able to protest, feeling cold where his butler's hot tongue had been moments ago.   
“Oh dear, it seems I've missed a spot. How unsightly, young master,” Sebastian said, his voice low, before he tilted Ciel's head to face him. His tongue drew another hot path, but didn't recoil...and, Ciel found himself shocked as his demon butler's tongue pressed through his lips.

*****

Ciel woke pouring sweat, his sheets askew, torn from his body and tossed on the floor. Dawn was just starting to break- the skies dark but for mild tints of a lighter blue, and yellow. His stomach felt odd- sick, maybe? And there was an aching pain in his groin that had become a more and more frequent visitor. All of these thoughts were pushed aside with the one front and center of Ciel's complex mind. “What the hell?” he asked himself. Sebastian would never do that. Why would I... _ung_.... Pain and pleasure as he shifted his legs. He sighed. How lewd and inappropriate.  
He reached down, lifting his nightshirt above his swollen shaft...his nightshirt, already stained from thoughts of desire...tiny droplets of pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock. He rubbed his thumb against it, moaning and even shaking at the insane desire rippling through him. He ran his hand down his neckline, carefully (and admittedly, with some difficulty), unbuttoning each button to slide his hand fully down his chest and abdomen, caressing himself as a lover would. As...   
_Mmm_ Ciel moaned as his fingers trailed the sticky substance lower, where he began to pump, slowly at first. Ciel Phantomhive was greedy, and it was hard to slow down where pleasure was concerned. Such acts were disgusting, lewd, and downright per- _aaaahhhh_ he cried out, less than quietly. He couldn't be too fast...it was still so sensitive. He'd only done it a few times. It felt so dirty. It felt--- _mmm_.   
“Sebastian.”   
He clapped his free hand over his mouth so hard he'd basically hit himself, his lip hurting a bit. _What the hell had he just said?_ He felt his cock pulsing in his hand. The thought that it had been...that it was...no. It was too perverse. It was simply wrong. But his tongue. If his tongue could do things like that...normal things. Things that a man would do to a woman...he tried to tell himself...what could a tongue do to the hard ache between his legs.   
He tried to picture Elizabeth, as he should, but found that in place of the butterflies in his stomach...he just felt sick. It didn't feel right. His thoughts kept straying to him...to Sebastian.   
The sun was creeping daylight into his window more and more, and his eyes felt heavy with sleep, his stomach both sick and fluttering, as the butterflies returned. He conceded, letting his mind give way to such perverse thoughts. With each stroke, Sebastian's hand replaced his, gloved hands caressing his master's...his tongue slamming against his with this same want. His length....oh god, this was going too far.   
Ciel's fingers slid down his shaft, his balls, until they rest at the entrance. He took a deep breath as he slid a finger in. He was done for. The uncomfortable pain quickly gave way to a new feeling, entirely pleasurable.   
“Se-Se-” he panted, mewling...his breathing harsh, his heart pounding as he found his hand moving faster, faster, past the point of no return, “Ahhhh,” he came so loudly and suddenly he hadn't managed to hide it, feeling his hot seed spurting, staining his bed, soaking his hand, “Sebastian,” he moaned, throwing his head back and panting.   
Ciel lay in his bed, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his pillow. His eyes were wide open and his breathing was heavy. The seconds after he came, he had been filled with comfort, relief, and love. All of those had quickly been stifled for fear. There were consequences for such feelings...humiliation, punishment, failure...and worse than perhaps any of those things....rejection. The devil became whatever you needed when you summoned him. Those strands of long, dark hair...those eyes...that voice...  
It was all an elaborate illusion to gain his trust, to keep his soul pure and not fettered down with worries. Sebastian, the butler, was Ciel's perfect design, nothing more. Even then, he had his flaws. Even someone built to please him, would inevitably reject him. And, if not...what would it be? Ciel craved something far deeper, clawing and scratching into his very soul...and like most things, the Earl Phantomhive would not settle for sub-par to his expectations. No. This was best left in the dark, never thought of again.  
He began to roll and reach for his feather when he realized his own cum was drying on his fingers, still sticky. _Ugh_. He looked around, exhaustion taking control of him. There was nothing. Nothing seemed to be consuming. He settled on the sheets, reaching far away as to not sleep in...who really cared anyway? Two tears fell against the pillow as Ciel squeezed his eyes shut forcefully, “No. You are more than this. You have always been more than this.”   
Alone in the hallway, Sebastian took a step towards his young master's room. His palm rested on the wood of the door. He wanted more than anything to make all of his master's lustful desires a sinful reality. He could never open that door, figuratively or literally. He could smell the scent of his essence, his very soul, and couldn't help but breathe deeply. His eyes blazed pink. Ciel...  
_My name…he said…my name. He called out to me as he came._  
Sebastian rushed through the servant’s quarters and closed the door to his bedroom. His uniform was suffocating. His skin burned. His own name rang over and over in his mind. The way it had sounded so sweetly on his lips. His moans of pleasure. The delectable scent of his cum. He crawled into bed naked, his cock already painfully hard, when the black cat jumped up on the bed. “Mr. Salem, go away, now is not the time.” But the cat stood there, an envelope in his mouth.   
“His timing could not possibly be any worse.” He tore open the letter. 

_Such small talk. You haven't forgotten the circumstances of our departure, I see? If you have begun to feel, what makes you think that I could deter these thoughts? I have had no prior success on the matter. Do you know what you ask? How do you know you can trust anyone in a matter such as this, even me? Do you think that they are not watching you? Such carelessness. Regardless, I will not await your response. Wait for me. Don't do anything reckless. You're good at that. Don't forget what you are. And what we do to the things that are most precious to us…  
Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel._

The letter was signed in blood.   
He was right. He hated that he was always fucking right. It was reckless to love Ciel, and even more so to act upon it. There were strict punishments in human society for such atrocities, and even higher stakes in the demon world.   
He read the letter again, before crumpling it and throwing it in the corner. "To hell with the world...," he growled.   
His anger gave way to pleasure, moaning as he stroked himself, "My lord....my master...Ciel... _my love_..." 

*****  
Demons rarely need to sleep, for which on nights like tonight Sebastian was very thankful. It wasn’t really so much a dream as it was a memory. He hated this memory.   
Sebastian stood in Hell amongst hundreds of other demons. There was a platform in the middle where a man was shaking, terrified. Next to him was his demon, a woman bound to a pole. The demons were angry.   
_It’s bad enough turning a human into a demon, but this? Loving one? It sickens me._  
_It doesn’t keep the bloodlines pure._  
_It’s revolting._  
The executioner pushed the man into the angry mob, causing a splash of blood and inhuman screams from the man as they ripped him limb from limb and feasted upon his flesh. The inhuman screams continued as they set fire to the demon. But it wasn’t the fire that made her scream, it was the loss of her loved one that nearly drove her insane.   
The scene changed rapidly and Sebastian shook his head a little to try to make sense of his new surroundings. No. He was bound to the pyre and Ciel...he was....  
Ciel looked back, trying to reach for him as he called out, “Sebastian!”   
They pushed him in.   
“NOOOOO!” Sebastian howled. 

Sebastian woke up shaking, trying to fight off demons that weren’t there, still trying to deal with the ones that were present. His inner demons.   
_Fuck. They probably are watching us. Maybe even now. If so, I can’t risk this. I can’t blatantly put his life in danger. Because I...I love him._  
*****  
It was nearly time for mid-morning tea rather than breakfast when Sebastian entered Ciel’s room. His scent intoxicated Sebastian, engulfing him, filling him with a desperate need, an insatiable hunger. He left the silver serving cart at the foot of the bed and stepped towards his master. _An unbuttoned shirt, no undergarments, oh my...how careless, young master. Sleeping in soiled sheets, how very...perverse.  
Had I really been the object of his lust?_ Sebastian leaned over Ciel, his gloved fingertips cupped his cheek delicately. _My Ciel..._  
Ciel's head rolled off the pillow, gravitating instantly to the warmth of Sebastian's hand. Sleep had only taken him a couple hours before, and he was still lost to a blissful world of dreams. His breath hitched before his normal breathing resumed, nuzzling into Sebastian's hand. A sigh escaped his lips as he kept to quiet dreams.  
_Such a sweet, delicious sound from his lips._ Sebastian's own lips hovered a fraction above his Lord's. It would be so easy, so easy to bridge that small distance, to take what he so desperately craved. No...not like this...  
“Seb....” Ciel murmured, sleepily, before lightly snoring, and turning gently away, “Sebastian...”  
Sebastian's heart clenched, and he withdrew his hand immediately. No...not like this at all...   
He went to the window, opening the curtains. "Young master, it is time to wake up."   
The young master didn't move an inch. The only voice he heard were sweet whispers and frantic breaths, cries claiming utter devotion, lips seizing flesh. It was all he wanted to hear. “Young master...” only jotted his brain a little. He didn’t want to be young master, just Ciel.   
“Ciel,” he whispered, trying to convey his thoughts.  
Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. He wished that among all of his powers that being able to see into Ciel's mind was one of them. He shouldn't...he shouldn't want this. The stakes were too far high.   
He had accomplished monumental achievements in his long centuries, killed thousands of men, brought entire empires to their downfall. Why was this one small task so difficult? To remain in his guise of a butler until the proper time? Because, he made it difficult. For some incredibly strange reason there was an immense power within Ciel Phantomhive, and that power was incredibly hard to say no to, no matter what the cost.  
He leaned over the bed once more, his lips brushed against his ear as he whispered, "Ciel, it is time to wake up."  
It was too early by far for Ciel to comprehend the many thoughts that flooded his brain when it jerked from its slumber. His eyes blinked open before he could forbid them to, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils. But, there was something else too, another scent permeating the morning....oh god...no. The night before. No. He jerked up, his head connecting with Sebastian's as he hastily pulled the blankets up. He tried to think of something to say, but between his heart pounding, the embarrassment, and lack of sleep, mixed with the pain in his head, he was having difficulty, “What the hell do you think you're doing?” He accused.   
He could really ask himself the same question. What was he doing...pulling his butler closer by night, and pushing him away by day? This could never end well. How was he to get out of bed? Did Sebastian know? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. How long would it take, in fact, to re-button these buttons if he could get Sebastian out?  
"Do be careful young master, you've hurt yourself." He sat on the edge of the bed, examining the red mark forming on Ciel's forehead, while ignoring the fleeting pain in his own head.  
“Must you be so careless?” Ciel asked, rubbing his head before squinting. The sun was so bright outside. His eyes felt so heavy, and he wondered how he'd get through the day.  
"My apologies, my lord, for my carelessness. I was merely trying to wake you as you refused to do so this morning. It must have been a rough night for you."  
The hair stood up on the back of Ciel’s neck as adrenaline and fear rushed through his veins. His very blood boiled, more angry at himself than Sebastian, but panicked as he retorted, "What's that supposed to mean?" with a huff, "Last night was no different than any other."  
“It seems you caught a fever last night. What with your shirt unbuttoned and your sheets discarded. I only wish I could have offered you some comfort while you were ill. I am glad to see you are feeling much better this morning.”  
Ciel flushed at all the ways he’d wished Sebastian had tended to him last night. “And do elaborate, Sebastian, on how you planned to wake me with your face buried in my pillow?” _Filling my senses with you, breathing you, wanting you. Take me, I'm yours._  
_Because you asked it of me, Ciel._  
His words prickled, but Sebastian had learned to take them in stride. A kitten often has it's claws out even when it still wants to be petted. It's just how they play. Ciel Phantomhive was not entirely unlike a kitten.  
Sebastian stood, going to the silver serving cart and beginning the preparations for the morning's tea. "The young master was not stirring when I tried to wake you, so I was very concerned." _I just...wanted to be close to you._ "I was merely checking to see if you were still ill from last night‘s fever. I thought it would be best to let you stay in bed if you were still ill.”  
The scent filling his nostrils was not of sweets...but rather, of a savory breakfast, and his tea. Not that it would do him any good...his stomach churned. He wasn't used to this feeling....dread...maybe? Anxiety? He felt like throwing up, his head spinning, too many thoughts at once, “What time is it?”  
“It is almost 11:00 a.m. I let you sleep in a little this morning, just to make sure that you were fully recovered. Now we can continue with the day's schedule as planned." He handed Ciel the cup of Earl Grey, before kneeling. "Let's get you dressed again before breakfast shall we?" He began buttoning the buttons of his nightshirt.   
Ciel sighed, “And what is on my schedule?” It felt crass and wrong to speak normally when he was so indecent. It felt even worse as he remembered the dream that had caused last night's actions, half expecting Earl Grey and cheesecake bites for breakfast.  
"We have your lessons today, my lord. The rest of your schedule is clear until your meeting with Glasgow tomorrow morning."   
Ciel's shaking hands dropped his cup.   
“Glas...gow?”  
Sebastian caught the cup, before a single drop spilled. Placing it gently in Ciel's hands. "Careful, my lord, you wouldn't want to dirty your bed sheets now would you?"  
The pit in Ciel's stomach grew then. He knew. He turned the cup of tea over onto the bedspread, smirking. "Why wouldn't I? You had to clean them anyway." He shuddered, though it wasn't at the loss of a perfectly good Earl Grey tea....it was at the thought of Sebastian cleaning him. That tongue. He felt numb for a moment, unable to move.  
“I will see to it,” Sebastian smiled.   
Realization sank in. He remembered now. Ciel bolted out of bed, getting halfway to his window before he remembered his state of dress, flushing brighter and pulling his nightshirt around him like a robe. His cum was dry, he could feel it flaking against his legs...he cringed. “You idiot! The partners from Glasgow!”   
“What about them, my lord?”   
Ciel began trying to inconspicuously button his nightshirt, his back turned to Sebastian, “That meeting was today. I've spent all week preparing for it. As my head butler, I thought for certain you could at least manage your daily duties. Perhaps Tanaka, or even one of the other three would be better equipped for handling such important matters. Perhaps I’ve put too much trust in you.” He had no idea how much trust. Too much. His heart leapt to his throat. His voice lost all emotion. “Does none of this matter to you? No...I suppose it doesn't.”   
He was in no mood for this today. Sebastian had control in his dreams, and that was already more than they had bargained for- trust was one step over the line that he’d been telling himself he’d yet to cross. Telling himself.  
Sebastian’s heart shattered at the word trust. _He doesn’t trust me._ Claude’s voice crept in his head. _He’ll never trust you. You want to eat his soul._  
"Glasgow? I was quite certain that meeting wasn‘t scheduled until tomorrow," Sebastian replied, his voice faltering. His heart was frantic. He pulled out a small notebook where he kept a written record of the day’s events. It was usually a needless measure, just to appear a bit more human, but he frantically turned the pages, searching for today. Glasgow - 9:30 His heart twisted violently. Such a lapse in his flawless butler facade. Unacceptable. Sebastian kneeled before Ciel. "My most sincerest apologies, my lord. I will reschedule at once.”  
“Your apologies do not mend the carelessness of your actions. Was there something else, on your mind, Sebastian? Something more...important...than my orders?” The words had been meant to hurt Sebastian. They hurt himself instead. Was there? Something more important?  
He thought of earlier. The sweet sound of Ciel's voice. He was far more important than any order. A knot formed in his stomach at the thought, a new feeling. It was difficult to name. He remembered his actions earlier, the true reason that he had made such a grave error, and regretted such selfish indulgences. He couldn’t bear to see his lord so angry with him. "No, my lord, I was just concerned about your health is all." He paused for a moment. "My lord?"  
“What is it?” he asked, still unable to face the demon.  
Sebastian held open a fresh pair of undergarments, waiting for Ciel to step into them. He was almost always sitting when he was dressing him.  
Ciel's pride stung with the decision of asking Sebastian for a bath. This felt disgusting. He was mortified. As he tried to balance to step into his clothing he wobbled, his hand instinctively grabbing onto Sebastian for support. Humiliation was the worst feeling of them all.  
Sebastian’s heart fluttered a bit at Ciel's touch. He pulled the undergarments up, before pulling the nightshirt back down. "For breakfast I've prepared eggs and bacon as well as an assortment of bite sized chocolate scones."  
“Even chocolate doesn‘t excuse your behavior,” Ciel said, removing his hands from Sebastian as soon as he could be balanced.  
Sebastian felt the pain of his absence, but allowed Ciel to climb back into bed before handing him a breakfast tray. “I know it doesn’t, my lord. I've also a brought you a glass of milk as well as orange juice. You need to replenish your fluids. It is easy to get dehydrated after a fever."  
“Would you stop fussing over me?” Ciel said, more than a hint of irritation in his tone, “I'm fine.”  
“You’re right, my lord. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You don’t always need me to tend to your every need. Shall I draw you a bath? It will make you feel much better after last night.” _You wished it had been my hand last night, just at it had been in that bathtub._  
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Ciel snapped again, though a bath did sound tempting. It couldn't honestly be too hard to prepare. He didn't need Sebastian.   
“It's you that seems to be incapable- forgetting my meetings and allowing me to be seized in the night by the Italian Mafia. I don't even need you, Sebastian. Do not dare to tell me that I am incapable of anything. I am Ciel Phantomhive, I raised my name from the ashes, I formed a contract with the devil, and built my own company. You are here upon my order, because you need something from me. Don't presume to ever tell me that I am incapable...of anything...it's you...who...” he stopped, his heart slamming into his chest. _It's you who is incapable...of feeling...of..._ “Get out.”  
Sebastian's eyes widened in shock for a moment at such words. He kneeled, bowing his head. "I apologize for this morning's mishap. I thought the Glasgow meeting was tomorrow, young master, my sincerest apologies." His heart crunched inside of his chest. _He thinks that I’m…incapable. My facade as the perfect butler is slipping. I can never be so careless._  
He remembered the letter, crumbled in the corner of his bedroom floor. His blood boiled, angry at himself mostly, but also the truth that those few lines of writing held.  
He couldn’t bear to have Ciel angry with him. The pain in his chest was unbearable. Sebastian looked up, still kneeling, "Master, I...I am sorry. I will not be so careless again."  
_It's me, I'm the one who's careless...what am I thinking? What am I doing?_ “See to it that you're not.” The pretense dropped from Ciel's voice, and it had a hint of almost sadness beyond the resentment, “Just go, Sebastian.”  
“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian answered, bowing his head once more.   
Looking at the demon made Ciel feel sick, guilt coursing through his veins...and worse, lust at the sight of him. “I don't want to be disturbed today,” he said, after a few moments. “Cancel my lessons.” _I can't look at you. I can't stand you. I love you._  
Sebastian stood, feeling guilty for such a lapse in judgment and something else...sadness, perhaps, at such a rejection from his master. He pulled the silver serving cart to the door, just before he closed the door he added, "Young master, as your butler, I must insist that we continue with the rest of today's schedule as planned. We cannot have you falling any further behind in your studies. We will begin your lessons after you've had your tea."   
Ciel's teeth clenched, “I do not wish to be disturbed. Not for lessons, not for company, nor visitors. That includes you.”   
"I am sorry, my lord, this matter is non-negotiable. Now if you'd meet me in the study, we will begin with your latin lesson."  
“You arrogant, stubborn-”  
But Sebastian had already taken his leave, closing the bedroom door behind him. 

*****  
` Ciel looked down, fuming. The bastard hadn't even gotten him dressed completely. The hell was wrong with him? Forgetting his meetings, forgetting to clothe him- and even worse, not bringing cheesecake bites....and not....  
His heart skipped a beat. No. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction. He stormed off to his bathroom. Sebastian had left the lavender oil in the cupboard with the rest of his bath supplies, which were not limited to various oils, bubble bath, shampoos and conditioners. He stood on a stepping stool to reach the lavender oil, but once he had it in his grasp, shook in horror as the bottle slipped, crashing to the floor and shattering. It was seconds before the smell filled Ciel's nostrils, and seconds more before it filled the entire bathroom. He looked around. A broom....that would work to clean up such a mess...  
Alas, there was no broom.   
Pulling an armful of soaps and oils down from the cupboard, he tiptoed delicately around the glass. He stared at the bathtub for a long moment, turning on the hot water, and hissing when he touched it and it burned his hand. After careful seconds of reading the instructions on the product, he shrugged, concluding that making a bath couldn't be too incredibly hard. What could possibly go wrong?

*****  
“SEBASTIAN!!”   
Sebastian had been sitting in the study, dressed in his tutor attire, growing more and more agitated at his young master's disregard for their schedule. He rushed up the stairs and threw open the bathroom door. "Master," he called, worriedly.   
Bubbles were the first thing that greeted Sebastian upon his arrival. They were strewn around the bathroom. The bathtub was now overflowing, but the knobs were covered in the bubbles as well. Ciel stood away from the wreckage, though his state suggested he had clearly attempted to turn off the water. He held a towel, wrapped around his waist with one hand. The other was covering his blue eye, so that only the contract remained. There were bubbles in his hair, his cheeks and nose, as well as his torso, arms and legs. “Don't just stand there. Fix it.”  
Sebastian quickly turned the water off, drenching his clothes in the process. He looked around at the aftermath of the destruction. The room was permeated with the scent of lavender. _How strange that he tries so hard to pull me closer while pushing me away at the same time, and even stranger that I do the same._  
"Honestly, my lord, what were you thinking? It's not nearly time for your bath and now your studies will be even further delayed. In any case, if you wanted a bath why did you not call me sooner?"   
He wanted to retort that he was capable...but, looking at the room, he could only imagine the response. His entire body flushed, “Just fix it.”  
Sebastian pulled off his overcoat, letting it fall to the floor with a very audible splash. He pulled his gloves off and rolled his sleeves up. He set his reading glasses down. He drained the tub and began mopping up bubbles. When he found the broken shards of glass he spotted blood. He swept the shards up and began refilling the bath with the proper amount of bubble bath and oils, with the water the perfect temperature. He knelt in front of Ciel. "Let me see, my lord."   
The contract eye narrowed, as Ciel sat on the edge of the tub, holding out his leg and turning away from Sebastian.  
"Such a mess you've caused this morning, young master," Sebastian replied, pulling the shard out, "Are you really so adverse to having your lessons?" He dabbed the blood with a wet cloth.   
“You're my butler,” Ciel said, trying to push away the embarrassment and humiliation, “It's your duty to clean up my mess.”  
How very much he wished he had been permitted to clean his mess up this morning, in a manner of his choosing. His mouth watered with the thought. "Yes, but I am also your tutor. It seems you only take my duties seriously when it is convenient for you." He cupped the side of his face. "Now, if you would be so kind as to open your eye young master."   
“I can't,” he said through gritted teeth, “It hurts.” As an afterthought, he rushed in, “You only seem to take your duties seriously when it's convenient to you....or would you say that a good butler forgets his master's schedule? Or when he asks his master for a bath and leaves without preparing him one?”  
Sebastian dabbed at his eye with the damp cloth. "Forgive me, young master, I don't know what's come over me. I seem to be a bit out of sorts as of late."   
Ciel didn't dignify Sebastian with a response. When his eye no longer stung, he let the towel around his waist slip off, and within a second, nestled into the warmth of his bath, letting his head fall uncharacteristically beneath the surface.  
It felt comforting, to be surrounded in warmth, in silence. Up there was deafening. His heart was deafening. He couldn't even scold the demon properly. He couldn't look at him. Why did his heart matter so much? Why would his heart choose to lust over _him_? He, who infuriated him so...he...who made him feel like he was nothing. Surely he could order Sebastian to fulfill his every fantasy....order him to pretend to love him...so, why was that not good enough? Why would an order not suffice?   
_Because that's cheating. And love is already a dangerous game._  
His head rose above the surface again, dripping water. _I don't love him._  
His heart twisted violently in his chest. _Liar._  
 _You're not mad at him for forgetting the meeting. You're mad at him because he can't see your dreams._  
He rest his head against the back of the tub, sighing, wishing the noise would just go away again.  
Sebastian patted Ciel's face with a dry towel. "Careful, my lord, or you'll end up with bubbles in your eye all over again. Does it feel better now?"   
_The pain is in my heart, Sebastian. Would you fix that just as easily?_ He nodded, still lost in the depths of his own mind.   
Sebastian grabbed the washcloth and began washing him. He started with the foot he had pulled the shard out of. "Does it feel better here?"   
He snapped out of his thoughts, recoiling at Sebastian’s touch, his body remembering where such actions had led the night prior. His jolt back to reality splashed the water up, causing a wave to hit Sebastian in the face.  
As mad as he wanted to pretend to be, and as hard as he bit the inside of his cheek, it didn't stifle the sudden laughter that erupted.  
Sebastian smiled, bubbles still on his face, water dripping down his chin, "I am glad to see I amuse you, my lord." _It's so rare to see him happy._ His heart swelled.   
“You look ridiculous,” Ciel said between bouts of laughter. “I'm sorry, Sebastian.”  
"An apology, my lord? It seems I'm not the only one out of sorts," he laughed, before splashing Ciel back. "Now we can both look ridiculous."   
The deafening roar came back, then...his heart urging him to grab Sebastian by the tie and pull him against him, and kiss the bubbles away. He'd never been kissed before. Certainly it was a laughable notion. And...ridiculous was true. The smallest sign of affection from his demon had Ciel's heart jumping out of its cage _Take me, I'm yours- love me, I beg you..._  
His mind was not so easily won, and it held the key to the cage. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, and wipe the bubbles away. He swallowed his own heart, “Alright, Sebastian,” he said, the smile beginning to fade, “We are already behind schedule.”  
It hurt to see his smile disappear, and even more so to see his walls come back up. _Is this truly what he wants? To have nothing more than a butler? No._ He knew it was a lie, that there was so much more than that between them. Still, with Ciel continually pushing him away it made it all the more easy to obey Claude's words. "Yes, my lord," he said with a bow. He dried his face before finishing his bath. He began dressing Ciel. "Let us begin with your lessons."   
Ciel's body felt cold. There were no slips of the fingers, no glove against his flesh. He was too lost in thoughts of dreams, what-ifs, what-could-be's, to protest his lessons. How would he ever be rid of growing feelings? He nodded, although he loathed Latin and couldn't possibly understand what use he could ever have for the dying tongue. Aside from that, his accent was awful.  
He followed Sebastian to his study, where he sat in his chair, resting his head against his palm. He noticed that Sebastian had already replaced his soaking tutor outfit with another similar one, and was wearing those glasses. Ciel loathed those glasses, which shielded the only defining feature of Sebastian’s that were not human- his beautiful, crimson eyes. They alone marked him for what he was...a demon. His…  
_No. Not his._ He had belonged to every master prior, and certainly in more than one way. He groaned when he realized the Latin book was already laid out before him, thick and old and boring- just like the language itself.  
"Turn to page 264. We will begin with refreshing on your verb conjugation." Sebastian announced, pushing the glasses up his nose as if he could tell that their presence was what was currently agitating Ciel.  
Ciel sighed, “For the hundredth time, might I ask what the point in learning a dead language is, Sebastian? No one speaks Latin.”  
A thick, Latin accent came from near the window, “I quite wondered the same...Why not French, or Spanish, Italian even?”   
Sebastian looked up. Claude stood behind Ciel, looking smug as he leaned against the windowsill. _If it isn't lustful thoughts of Ciel plaguing my mind it's images of Claude taunting me. How wonderful. I shall surely go insane one day._ He chose to ignore Claude and instead address reality. "Latin is a language of sophistication, my lord. It is not meant to be used by mere commoners. It will allow you to widen your social standing in aristocratic society."   
“Sophistication?” Claude laughed, his hand resting against the sill, “Latin is a lover's language, love of which you could scarcely afford. Feeling reminiscent, are we? Trying to relive the past?”  
“No, I’m not, _Claudius_ ,” he spat back at the figment.   
“To hell with society,” Ciel murmured under his breath, using his finger to trace what he was supposed to be learning. How he wished he could truly say that.  
_If only._ Sebastian's heart tugged as he handed Ciel a piece of paper and a pen. "Write each verb in past, present, and future tense, young master."   
“The past you should have learned from, the present you are destroying, and the future that he has no place in,” Claude mocked, “Don't you ever learn?”  
Ciel's scribbling stopped- _To love_.  
"It could be...different. This time. Somehow. It has to be."   
“Different in the worst possible way. Look at the possibilities, and state one where this could possibly end well. You are a monster- a demon...you will never share his world, only his soul.”  
"We'll make our own world, and it will be beautiful as long as I have him."   
“The only world you have is the hell surrounding you. You'll be holding a corpse in your arms the second the word 'love' passes your lips....and then what? You made a contract. Take his soul and be done with it. Don't try to sound human- it's pathetic,” the Claude figment turned away from Sebastian's gaze. “Between hope and fear, always choose fear. It's less likely to kill you both.”  
“Sebastian?”  
Sebastian's heart wrenched horribly at the thought of Ciel's corpse in his arms, and by his own hand in either scenario. His voice was a bit rougher than he'd intended as he said, "What is it, Ci-...ahem, my lord?"   
Ciel's pen froze. He was both surprised by Sebastian's coarse tone and by the near-slip of his name. Perhaps, he had been too harsh, as he so often was with his demon. His mind froze for precious seconds while he tried to remember his question. “I...” he handed him the paper with the verbs written in precise letters, few errors...except the shaking on the word _love_ , where the pen had done a scrawl of its own.  
Sebastian stared at that particular verb for a long moment. He put the paper aside and handed Ciel another piece of paper. His voice was soft again when he spoke. "And now nouns, my lord. On page 189." He glared at Claude's back. "I won't let that happen. I refuse for that to be our end. It's not hope, nor fear. It's...love. I love him, more than anything I ever have." .  
“You're a fool to think you're any different than the rest. That you, and you alone could bypass their laws and their eyes. It's greed and selfishness...not love...you've never known the meaning behind the word you profess.”  
“Sebastian, we went over this last week. Are you well?” Ciel tried to ask in a manner befit of his position, to ask if Sebastian was capable of performing his duties. What came out was genuine concern.  
"I did love you once Claudius; I am not incapable of such an emotion. That was a different life. Now, I've never felt something like this. It's...terrifying." He took his reading glasses off and cleaned them. "I'm terribly sorry, young master, how careless of me. I meant page 198. Forgive my carelessness." He pushed his glasses back up.   
“You're hungry. Ravenous. You're not in love. What is it the boy says...don't be ridiculous.”  
"Do not speak as if you presume to know him. You know nothing."   
“I know you.”  
"Not anymore. A lot can change in a century."   
“Nothing has changed.” Claude laughed, “Don't take me for a fool.”  
"I don't know why I thought you would ever be helpful. That you would do anything other than mock my pain." Sebastian glared at the window, wishing that the figment of his mind were tangible, so that he could throw him through the glass. "It's him. He has changed something in me, and though I am unfamiliar with such thoughts and feelings, though they terrify me and have grave repercussions, I find them indescribably beautiful."   
“Because you've always wanted that which you cannot possess. This boy is no different. Sate your curiosity, take him, both body and soul, as we both know your reckless behavior will lead you to do. But don't call it love. When the time comes, destroy him along with whatever you think you're feeling. If you don't, they'll destroy you, after you watch his bones become dust beneath some pile of dirt.”  
"This is love. I will call it by no other name. And I will kill anyone that tries to come between us."   
“Then call it death, for they are one in the same. Why did you ask me for help? As I said, I've never been able to sway your careless and reckless behavior. Why should I bother now?”  
Ciel had stopped writing moments before. Sebastian seemed so out of sorts. He'd been staring out the window for minutes without a word, his features furrowing. He turned his head towards the window as he asked, “Sebastian?”  
"I don't need your fucking help, you bastard. Anyone who dares touch my beloved will plead for death before the end." When Sebastian retorted, he spoke the words aloud in Latin without even thinking, consumed by his own anger. He didn't even realize his eyes had turned their demonic shade of pink.   
Claude disappeared, but it gave Sebastian no rest. .  
“Se...bastian?” Ciel said hesitantly. There was nothing, no one. His anger was misplaced somewhere that Ciel couldn't see, somewhere beyond his reach. The words were Latin, too advanced for him to pick out but the last bit 'the end', and too fast for him to make sense of any of it. “I don't understand.” he admitted, quickly adding, “Let's stop for today. We don't have to continue.” The words were gentle, but fear coursed through Ciel at the anger Sebastian exhibited...those eyes were the last things his enemies ever saw.  
His attention snapped to Ciel, and his voice was unintentionally harsh, still filled with anger at quarreling with his own conscience. "We will finish today's lesson before we move onto violin. After nouns we move onto sentence structure. I am your tutor, and I will not abide you slacking off in your studies, nor will I allow such deliberate disregard for the day's schedule."  
He tapped Ciel's knuckles with the pointer stick. His heart swelled with regret the moment he realized his actions. _I'm sorry, my love. I can't let them see us. I have to protect you, even if it means being hard._ "Begin your sentence structure, young master."   
“I want my tea now, Sebastian.” Ciel withdrew his hands, standing up and facing the window where the figment of Claude had stood moments prior. The sun was shining brightly on Finnian in the gardens, but inside this room, the air was stifling, and the atmosphere was dark. He squeezed his eyes shut, the anger at being treated so callously, and the pain in his heart fighting so the word that came out was nearly silent, “Please.”   
"I'm sorry, my lord," his voice tried to sound softer this time, as if to say he was sorry for much more than tea, "But afternoon tea is not until after your violin lesson. Finish your sentence structure and we will move onto violin. For this afternoon, I will be preparing a triple layer chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and fudge frosting topped with hand whipped cream, chopped walnuts, and garnished with shaved chocolate imported from Belgium, accompanied with a fine Ceylon brew." He placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder with a smile, his eyes had returned to red. "Now then, shall we continue?"   
Ciel shivered at Sebastian's touch, blushing as he buried his nose back into the sentences.  
*****  
"Very well done indeed," Sebastian said with a smile when Ciel had finished, taking the paper and adding it to the pile before closing the thick textbook. He placed the book back on the shelf. _Enough of that wretched language._ He set the violin case on the desk. "And now, for your violin lesson, my lord."   
“You know I loathe the violin, Sebastian.” Ciel scowled. _Why is he punishing me?_  
"Young master, you know that like waltzing, the violin is very important for your social standing. They are important talents to learn, whether you like them or not," he added with a smile, "Besides, the sooner you finish the sooner you will have tea and cake."   
Ciel scoffed. He loathed being treated like a child, bribed with sweets, and hated even more that it usually worked. He was so sick of hearing about his social standing, everything he must do and must learn, that he couldn't stop thinking about how liberating it would be to just toss the damn thing out the window and be rid of it. To pretend Sebastian wasn't right. Of course, that would never do, and his butler would have the strings fixed even before he jumped up to the window. He wanted time. Time for himself. This life was becoming stifling, and he was finding each day that he was losing himself...or perhaps, he had never known himself to begin with. He stared at the box.  
"Something wrong, young master?" Sebastian asked softly.   
_I don't want this._ “No...” he said quietly, picking up the box, almost like there were invisible puppet strings controlling his movement. He unlatched the case, and pulled out the violin.  
"Very well, my lord, let us begin with the Devil's Trill shall we?" He laid the sheet music on the podium.   
_First I dance with the devil, and then I play his song...what have I gotten myself into?_ He rest the violin against his shoulder, placing his chin on the chin rest, as he tried to (as Sebastian had told him on nearly every lesson) _glide_ the bow gently across the strings. The first note was a harsh squeak. The harshness remained, but the squeaking stopped. He was genuinely playing his best.  
"Young master, will you please take your studies seriously? We are, after all, behind schedule as it is. Let us start from the top and this time put some effort into it," Sebastian said with a sigh, resting his fingertips on his forehead, a gesture usually saved for when he was particularly frustrated with the servants.   
Irritation buzzed in Ciel's ears. He was trying. Didn't everyone see how hard he was trying? He was trying to do everything properly. He was trying to be the Ciel that society demanded. The Ciel that had a soul, and nothing to lose. The Ciel that inherited the Phantomhive name. The problem was, he was not that Ciel. The more he learned, the more he stifled his true nature. His fingers clenched around the bow, squeaking again as he continued playing as though it was not happening.  
Sebastian took the bow out of Ciel's hands and laid it on the desk. "Young master, are you listening to me at all?"   
“Why should I listen to you?” he retorted, letting the anger out again. He was, he was trying. It wasn't working.  
"Because I am your tutor, my lord. You are to follow my instructions. How else do you plan on improving your performance?" Sebastian felt during the Latin lesson that he, himself, had been a bit distracted, wrapped up in his own thoughts. Now he realized that he was not the only one. He didn't want Latin or violins or tea or cake. He wanted to bend Ciel over the desk and take him right now in this office and claim him as his own by more than just the seal in his eye. He wanted so much more than a soul now. He wanted his heart. He needed his body. "Remember to glide the bow across the strings, my lord. Let us try again."   
“I don't plan to improve my performance,” Ciel interjected, “I will be gone before the violin ever becomes of use to me. This is foolish, pointless. I never wanted a part of it to begin with. You insist that I live this life as though I will grow old behind that desk. Why does it matter, Sebastian? The company, I understand....the facade is clearly necessary. This is ridiculous.”  
"And sitting behind your desk shoveling as many sweets as you want past your lips and doing whatever you please until your untimely death, that will surely raise no suspicions. A nobleman of your standing is expected to be learning violin as well as the rest of your studies because as far as the rest of the world is concerned you will grow old behind that desk. Well, except perhaps the Queen. Her dogs do not commonly live long lives, whether they sell their souls to a demon or not."   
Ciel glared at Sebastian, feign-bowing as he picked up the violin, holding it delicately, as asked. He was done with games for the day. He was cautious enough to perform as close to perfection as he could- which was still a far cry. The violin was tolerable until the first trill, where, mocking his pain, the bow was pressed roughly into the strings, the friction causing them to snap, and the fine hairs on the bow to fray.   
Sebastian came up behind Ciel. He merely touched the violin and its strings turned brand new again. His voice was much more gentle as he held Ciel’s hands in his own, showing him how to play the piece properly. “Like this, my lord.”   
Ciel felt static pierce his skin like plunging into icy water, the shiver running the length of his body, up his spine, until the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His hands twitched beneath Sebastian’s, and had he not been holding them, the bow would have fallen to the floor.  
As it was, the violin and bow somehow managed to stay within his (their) grasp, and the piece began to improve dramatically; though, Ciel was not looking at the notes before him, he was not reading them. He was not...anything. That smell engulfed him again, and it was all he could do to breathe.  
"That's it, young master, much better."  
It was ‘better’ because Ciel was basically letting Sebastian play the piece for him. His body felt hot again, and yet, numb, awakened by that voice- his redemption, his destruction. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he needed air again, and nearly gasped for it.  
"Are you alright, my lord?" Sebastian asked softly, his hands still on top of Ciel's, continuing to play the violin.  
“I don't see the point,” Ciel turned his head, his lips aching to close the gap between them once he realized how close they were, “You're playing this, not me.”   
Sebastian used the bow to tilt Ciel's chin up. "I am teaching you, my lord. Feel the instrument in your hands. Mimic my movements. Let it flow through you."  
The only thing flowing was his blood. And not to the direction of his hands, which were shaking. For the briefest of moments, he feared Sebastian would bridge the space between. Then, what would he do? His eye widened at the thought, an almost fear and innocence creeping into his delicate features.  
Sebastian was lost in the blueness of Ciel’s eye, his fingers itching to untie the eye patch that hid his brand from the world. He remembered the day before, the macabre storm of blood and feathers falling around them, he wanted to feel Ciel’s fingers cupping his cheek once more. Those sounds… _..ah….Se-Sebastian...ah…_...he needed to hear them, now, his love’s hot breath on his ear. He grew hard with the thought. He may not have bridged the gap, but he wasn’t shying away either as he stared into Ciel’s eye.   
Ciel heard words come out of his mouth, but didn’t register that he was speaking them, still lost somewhere in the abyss of the terrifyingly beautiful thought that Sebastian wasn’t moving- that he could move any second...and complicate everything a hell of a lot more. “Sebastian…” he said, almost monotonously, “We stopped playing.” He heard his own heart hammering violently in his throat.  
His own name on Ciel’s tongue sent a shiver up his spine.   
“It appears we have. Do you want us to start again?”  
Was that a trick question? Had it come down to this? Playing violin just to keep Sebastian close? If that were the case, he would certainly never improve. He shifted, leaving the violin in Sebastian’s hands, rather than his own, uncertain of what, precisely, he was doing...but he turned, facing Sebastian, their bodies closer than he had thought.  
He felt his hip jab into Sebastian on accident...but where he normally would have connected with soft, human-like flesh, he found that he wasn’t the only one prone to lewd fantasies. Had he...was he….thinking of...  
Red.  
_There’s no way he’s that big…._  
Redder.  
_Oh god. Is he thinking about me? What else could he possibly be thinking about?_  
Crimson.  
_Does he want to close the gap? What is he…? He couldn’t possibly fit…_  
Hard.  
“Tea.” He moved away quickly, facing the window.  
“Yesmylord,” he could barely get the words out fast enough. He left so quickly, it was as if someone had opened a window, the music sheets of the Devil’s Trill blowing against the podium.   
In the hall, Sebastian adjusted himself quickly before anyone else discovered his perversions. He rested his head against the door.   
It was over now. Ciel knew his desires. Surely when he walked back in that door he would be rejected, scolded, at the very least mocked for what had happened. He went to make preparations for tea.   
When he returned with the silver serving cart in tow, he came bearing, as promised: a triple layer chocolate cake with chocolate ganache, fudge frosting, hand whipped cream, chopped walnuts, and garnished with freshly shaved chocolate imported from Belgium, accompanied with a fresh cup of Ceylon. After announcing the afternoon’s refreshments, Sebastian set the cup and saucer in front of Ciel before adding a sizable slice of cake.   
Ciel sat in silence, absent-mindedly pushing cake or tea past his lips every couple of moments. He didn’t seem mad, or upset...just...focused. The gaze he wore, staring into his refreshments, was not unlike the one he put on during a particularly complex game of chess- almost as though he were trying to figure out his next move. The silence in itself was a bit unnerving.  
_How cute,_ Sebastian mused, _it seems my love is at a loss at what to do next. I suppose that is far better than some reprimand._  
Sebastian cleared his throat. “After your tea and cake, my lord, we will move onto your final lesson for today. I’ve prepared something...different. Something a bit more relaxing.”   
Ciel’s shoulders fell with his breath at the mention of the word ‘relax’. He truly didn’t know the meaning, especially with the events of the week. Especially with his duties as guard dog for the Jack the Ripper fiasco looming inevitably on the horizon.  
The breath got sucked right back in, his body stiffening again. Relaxing? Different? He choked a bit on his tea, before regaining his poise and pushing the thought far from his mind. What he needed was a lot of time to be alone...to have a chance to push these ridiculous notions aside so that everything could get back to normal.  
“What did you have in mind?” He coughed just a bit, tea still stuck in his throat, his voice crackling.  
“If I told you now, young master, then you wouldn’t be surprised, and where’s the fun in that?” His Cheshire grin appeared.   
Ciel looked up, trying to get across the look of _I’ve had enough surprises for one day thank-you-very-much_ ; but, instead, the second he met his butler’s gaze, his cheeks flushed and he looked back to his tea. Check mate. Game over. He’d won. For today.  
Sebastian cleared away the refreshments after allowing Ciel a second piece of cake, a rare sight indeed. He pushed up his tutor glasses as he pulled the white sheet off of an oak easel.   
“No Still Life today. I thought we could just...have a bit of fun.”   
He began rolling up Ciel’s sleeves before putting on a large paint coat for him.   
“What do you want me to paint?” Ciel asked, turning his head to look at Sebastian.  
His voice was hot on Ciel’s ear as he continued buttoning buttons. “Whatever you wish, my lord.”   
The words were so uncommon that Ciel didn’t know what to do with them. No one, be it a tutor, a family member, a visitor, or even an investor seemed to think that Ciel could do whatever he wished. They all had their say...little parts of themselves that they added to the rouse that Ciel had become- the boy that wasn’t him. In this situation, most others would not know what to do with any bit of freedom- but, Ciel longed for it- imagined it daily. He knew exactly who he was when the guise wore off. The first word that came to mind was simply: his.  
He could work with this, too, though. It was another of Ciel’s secrets- one that he was not certain that his butler knew- his...affinity for drawing, for art.. He took his time, first with the graphite, detailing the outlines of a garden, the same one that had been frequently visiting his dreams. He drew rose bush, after rose bush, a gazebo with vines twisting through its cracks, and foliage surrounding. Standing at the front was an archway, an entrance. It was all rather beautiful, and vivid. Another talent of Ciel’s that went unnoticed all for the sake of the charade. Once it was all outlined, he studied it for a moment, before loading his palette with brighter colors than their usual still-life offered.  
“Such exquisite detail young master, I see, at last, one of my lessons seems to have been retained. Have you been here? Are you drawing from memory, or is this your own design?”   
“It’s something from a dream,” Ciel admitted, testing the waters of letting his guard and wall down. It had been a long day. He painted the sky the color of night….but the moon had such a luminous glow that it cast color on the garden below. Dark greens began to unfold in the brush, shadows falling on a worn path to the gazebo.  
_His dreams? Is this where he goes to? Is this garden where he thinks of me...thinks of us?_  
“It must be a very beautiful dream.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ciel said, unable to hide a smirk, satisfied in some way that Sebastian was pleased with his work, “I’m not an artist, Sebastian.” _No. This picture doesn’t do it justice. I wish you could see. I wish it were real. I wish we were…_  
But those notions were as ridiculous as the roses he’d begun to paint with hues of midnight and sky blues.  
Sebastian loved that smirk, it was the closest he got to a genuine smile on most days.   
“Maybe not, but you do show true talent. Though I must ask, why you’ve decided to paint the roses blue?”   
Ciel looked thoughtful, pausing for a moment, and turning around to face Sebastian, a spark in his eye as he dared catch his gaze, “Not everything…” and he couldn’t believe he was saying this, knowing the real meaning behind his words, “...has to make sense.”  
Sebastian smiled as Ciel’s cheeks flushed again, “No, I suppose they don’t.”  
He watched Ciel intently, committing every stroke to memory, determined to make his love’s dreams a reality one day.   
Ciel focused on the painting far longer than any study session, willing his dreams to appear before his eyes. It was well past the time he normally went to sleep when he stepped away, pushing the hair away from his face before realizing his fingers had been stained with paint. He didn’t seem to notice as he studied the painting carefully, feeling like he was forgetting some detail...and trying not to think that that detail was him. Him, and Sebastian, sitting among these roses, soft wings around him.  
When a crash in the hallway demanded Sebastian’s attention, Ciel quickly added one final, minute touch to the painting: a solitary black feather, tiny, and seemingly insignificant, resting on the bench of the gazebo in place of them, forever in love. He put the palette down and stretched. Sebastian smiled as he returned from the hall.   
_A single black feather, how poetic my love, I suppose that is how this all began._  
Sebastian wiped away paint from Ciel’s forehead with his thumb. “Are you finished young master? Shall I prepare dinner now?”  
“Just tea, Sebastian.” Ciel fought the urge to lean into his butler, “I’m tired.”  
A knock came at the door, and Ciel nodded towards it for Sebastian to answer. Mey-Rin stood outside the door, “Young Master,” she peeked in when Sebastian opened the door, “A letter came today. It’s from her majesty.”  
Ciel closed his eye, allowing only the briefest moment of self-pity before resuming his normal wall, “Very well,” he nodded, pretenses back, “Thank you, Mey-Rin.”  
Even the maid couldn’t help but notice that Ciel seemed a little more than tired. He seemed...sad, and lost, perhaps amidst the world of blue roses and black feathers.  
Sebastian snatched the letter up from Mey-Rin. “Very well young master, I shall read it with your tea. We really should get you to bed, my lord.”  
Ciel nodded, his gaze lingering on the maid, “What is it?” He asked. Usually, Sebastian taking the letter was final.  
Mey-Rin waved her hands, blushing, “It’s just...your painting, Young Master.”  
Ciel’s cheeks flushed again and he went to rip it down, just like anything else that revealed secrets behind Ciel Phantomhive’s wall….it shouldn’t be here. Not in this lie.  
Sebastian caught Ciel’s wrist. “Young master, if I may, I think we should keep this one. It’s quite lovely, and we could use a new addition around the mansion, perhaps in the servant’s quarters.”   
“Oh yes sir! The young master’s painting would be quite lovely it would!” Mey Rin exclaimed, both palms on the sides of her face.   
“No-” Ciel said hurriedly, some form of fear edging into his voice, “No...I...want it gone.” He knew his words were final. That painting and its features should be kept in his mind, with other beautiful things- the things he could hold onto in the land of dreams. Things that made no sense, things that were beautiful, they should stay clear of this world...far away. This world took beautiful things and destroyed them, too easily, too readily. He was foolish to even think about forgetting that. “Enough of this foolishness. Don’t you both have somewhere to be?”  
Sebastian nodded, bowing slightly. “I will see to it, my lord, let’s get you in bed, shall we?”   
“Tea,” Ciel reminded him gently. It was one small pleasure to ease the trouble that this letter was about to bring. “Earl Grey?”  
“Yes of course, my lord,” Sebastian said with a smile. 

*****

It was mere moments before Sebastian pulled the silver serving cart into Ciel’s room.   
Ciel was frantic. He had torn his bedsheets off his bed, again. Pillows and a few white feathers littered the floor, with sheets crumpled until the bed lay bare. Ciel did not look the least bit comforted by these actions.   
“Young master!” Sebastian said worriedly, “What’s wrong? What happened?”   
“The laundry,” Ciel tried to elaborate, gesturing to the floor before crossing his arms and shaking his head to calm his thoughts, “My pillow,” he tried again, “It’s gone.”  
“But my lord, you have eleven pillows on your bed.” he said, a bit confused before realization dawned on him. _His_ pillow was gone. The one with _the_ feather in it. Sebastian bent down, acting as if he were continuing the search. He reached inside the sleeve of his tailcoat and ripped out a fresh feather for his love. He tucked it into the pillow and fluffed it as he said, “I think I’ve found it, my lord.”   
Ciel’s heart raced as he grabbed the pillow from Sebastian, fear still plaguing him. What if that idiot maid had washed it and lost the feather? The thought hurt him more than it ever should have. The comfort of his demon's feather in his grasp was ridiculous.   
Maybe, it would be for the best. It wasn't as if Sebastian ever slept, let alone in a form that would allow Ciel to take another feather. He felt his face heat at the thought of seeing Sebastian with those wings...the warmth being wrapped in those feathers would provide…  
“Was all of that really just over a pillow, my lord?" Sebastian asked, looking around the room.   
It really was silly, to hear it put that way. Ciel felt his heart beat hard, his pride stinging. _Yes, you idiot, all that for a pillow...for.._ "I like this pillow," he said softly, assuring himself by feel that the feather was in its rightful place.  
“I know you like this pillow, my lord,” Sebastian said with a smile, “Now that crisis is adverted, we can continue with preparations for bed. Here allow me.”   
Sebastian began steeping Earl Grey tea as he read the letter aloud:

_Dear Boy,_

_I am certain that you have seen the recent string of murders in the papers. The matter is beginning to get out of hand, as you might have noticed. The women of London no longer feel safe to walk her streets at night..The papers are calling this monster ‘Jack the Ripper’. I am entrusting you with this matter, handle it quietly, dear boy._

_Sincerest regards,_   
_Victoria_

Sebastian handed Ciel the cup and saucer along with a plate of bite-sized sandwiches and mini blueberry cheesecake bites.   
If it had been anything else laid before him, Ciel would have muttered off about not being hungry; because, circumstances provided- he really wasn’t. He should have known better than to think a day of mostly calm, and a little laughter could have any other consequence.  
As it were, what Sebastian presented him was not anything else. Cheesecake bites. Of course it would be cheesecake bites. “Sometimes, I wonder,” Ciel paused, examining the perfect dessert in his hand, smiling bitterly, “What would happen if I were to just say ‘no’.” He bit into the cheesecake, head falling back into his pillow somewhere between bliss and defeat.  
“No? To her Majesty the Queen Victoria? I daresay I don’t think the outcome would be very much in our favor, my lord. May I ask why you are against solving this Jack the Ripper case?”  
Ciel swallowed and sighed, “It isn’t that. I suppose I’m just….tired. I shouldn’t say such careless things, regardless.”  
“It’s just us, my lord. And you can always feel free to tell me anything. Perhaps a nice retreat out of the city once the case is done, hmm? You’d like that my lord, I promise.”   
Ciel couldn’t help but smile softly, to himself more than anything. He knew it was just a pleasant thought- that society, and duty would never allow him out of London, but it was a beautiful thought, nonetheless. “Sebastian…”   
He hesitated on ‘stay’.   
He faltered once more on ‘will you read to me?’  
What eventually worked itself out of his mouth was a, “Let’s try something different.” The day had been full of surprises. Ciel reached in his nightstand drawer, pulling out his worn Poe book, and thumbing through the pages. He cleared his throat and began, both of his eyes trained more on Sebastian than on the verses he’d memorized eons ago, “Once upon a midnight dreary…”  
Sebastian sat down in the chair beside the bed, where he usually did the reading and instead listened.  
_A curious choice indeed, Ciel, after you made such a fuss tonight over your ‘pillow.’ You’ve been very curious all day. I wish...I wish we could have more days like this._  
Ciel’s cheeks were once again flushed, aware of Sebastian’s eyes on him, as word, by careful word, flowed from his lips- recited too many times to falter. He lingered on a verse for moments before finishing with, _“Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before —On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”_  
Though it was not the end of the poem, Ciel closed the book, sitting it on his nightstand and sinking down into his pillows.  
Sebastian’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. Ciel couldn’t possibly think that he was capable of such a thing. But then...he was a demon, who would devour his soul one day.   
“Finished already, my lord? Yet you haven’t even completed the first poem. You must be absolutely exhausted.”   
He busied himself with cleaning up the cup and saucer as well as the plate of now all sandwiches and no cheesecake bites. He couldn’t meet Ciel’s eyes.   
Ciel hated his inability to read Sebastian. He could read almost anyone- moves, and countermoves...but not his demon. It was maddening. _Look at me. Tell me the truth. Tell me...I need to know. I need you to know._  
He didn’t respond, instead, feigning falling asleep- because, as always, the act was easier than to admit the truth between them- and far easier than disappointment.  
Sebastian took the candelabra, pulling the silver serving cart behind him, and headed towards the door.   
Ciel’s eyes fluttered open at the new silence as the door shut, his absence filling him with more darkness and dread than Poe’s work could dare dream.  
He stared vaguely at the door, picking up at the end of his prose, _“And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming. And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor…”_  
His fingers slipped beneath the pillowcase at long last. He felt it, soft, and where it should be. He thumbed its edges, his forehead furrowing before he pulled it out, sitting upright in his bed.  
His heart nearly stopped.  
This wasn’t the same feather.  
It was a little longer, softer (probably from not being touched nearly as much),and it smelled of him...of lavender, and of something else, entirely Sebastian. It wasn’t the same feather...but it was definitely his.  
He knew.  
Ciel felt the stinging in his heart become more apparent. As comforting as having this new feather resting in his hand felt, he found himself biting down hard on his tongue. It was surely that he was exhausted that he'd almost asked him to stay...and thought of him curling into bed, his body resting against his, keeping him warm, gently wrapping him in those wings. He felt his face flush, and an emptiness plague his heart. Those were things he couldn't have...creatures of the darkness did not love. They could not afford to love...lest of all the demon guiding him. He didn't have the heart to tell Sebastian that his nightmares weren't of branding irons, or cultists nearly as much as they were of being broken, hurt, by the demon he had so foolishly placed his trust in...unwillingly given his heart to.  
But, maybe...it didn’t have to be like that. Today had proved that they could be...something. Didn’t he at least owe it a chance? What, after his soul, could he lose? He could keep telling himself into eternity that his stubborn mind would hold onto his heart with lock and key...but, even that seemed...pointless. What good was his heart in Hell?   
He pulled back the covers, shivering as he tucked the feather into the pillowcase once more, and his bare feet hit the cold floor.  
 _What are you doing? It’s just a game. None of it is real, Ciel._  
 _The way I feel is real._  
 _You’re going to get hurt._  
 _That doesn’t change anything. It never has._  
 _It makes no sense to do this. It can only end one way: badly._  
 _ **Not everything has to make sense.**_  
He smiled at the thought, walking in the dark to the door and closing it behind him.  
"Perhaps it's time to end this worthless game."  
 _And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor...Shall be lifted —nevermore._

 

*****

“There, that’s better,” Sebastian replied softly, taking a step back from the fireplace in his bedroom. Above the mantle hung an ancient roman sword in pristine condition, and now above that hung Ciel’s Blue Roses. Mr. Salem jumped up onto the desk, staring at the room’s new addition.   
“Quite curious indeed, don’t you think? Blue roses? He’s always so curious.”   
_“Like this, Sebastian?” Ciel asked, on his knees, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes, lips slightly parted._  
The thought sent a chill up Sebastian’s spine. These thoughts were becoming more and more frequent, and no matter how many times he took himself into his hands to resolve the matter, the fire was unquenchable and all consuming.   
He undressed, crawling into bed where his Ciel figment waited for him.   
_“Are you sure, Ciel?”_  
 _“Stop being ridiculous Sebastian. Take me. I’m yours. Show me how you want to be touched. That’s an order.”_  
 _That contract symbol piercing the night._  
 _“Right here, Ciel. Just like this.”_  
 _That beautiful face buried between his thighs, those eyes staring up at him. It was enough to make a Devil cry out for God._  
He stroked himself faster. “Ciel...oh God,” he moaned aloud, “Ciel.”   
The voice that broke the night was no figment, and Sebastian had been so lost in his pleasure he hadn’t heard the slightest sound of the door opening, “S-Sebastian…”


End file.
